Big Bad Rancher: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance by Tia Siren (21)

“Abigail is not my mistress!” he thundered, drawing startled gazes from two prim older women who crossed the common dirt road in front of them.

Tipping his hat in the direction of the ladies, who sniffed sharp and loud in return, Cal waited until they passed to turn with cold eyes in the direction of his still stunned brother.

“When Abigail first arrived at the ranch, we both agreed that we had no true intentions of falling in love, or for that matter of living together as husband and wife. I told her that I never could love anyone but Elsa, and as for Abigail? Well, she’s a lone rider. She didn’t want a man at all. So we decided that she would work my land in the role of a ranch hand,” he explained, adding as he made a broad gesture in the air before them, “Then I had to get to know the woman, and she quite simply is the smartest, funniest, hardworking gal I ever did meet. I really am beginning to like this gal, Stephen—but last night when I tried to kiss her, she plum broke away from me and ran from the room! You would a thought I had the croup!”

Stephen smiled.

“Chances are, brother, that you’re both a little skeered—and given your histories and life situations, that’s no surprise at all,” he paused here, adding as he graced his brother’s broad shoulder with a reassuring pat, “It is high time you faced the fact, though, that your sweet Elsa isn’t coming back. Of course, she will always live in your heart, but she of all people would never want you to live your life alone and miserable. Abigail is here; she’s alive; so why not give her a chance?”

Cal thought a moment, then nodded.

“I reckon you’re right,” he allowed finally, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “I’m just not so sure that she’s at all willin’ to give me a chance.” He paused here, adding as he rolled his eyes heavenward, “As is almost always the case when we play poker, she holds all the cards.”

*****

The evening could not come quickly enough for Cal’s liking; and as he rode his trusty steed with purposeful strides through the tall steel gates of his ranch, his eyes scanned the landscape for any sign of the woman that he simply couldn’t wait to see.

When finally he spotted Abigail, herself riding in an emerald leaved meadow astride Gentry, her beloved chestnut mare, he dug his heels sure but gentle into the sides of his own ride; quickly catching up with her as he opened his mouth to issue her a hearty greeting.

This same mouth snapped shut moments later, as she saw him coming and ran.

“Ha!” Abigail summoned her horse, racing her mare into a steady gallop as the two raced fast and free across the meadow.

Immediately taking the challenge to heart, Cal urged his horse onward until he’d engaged his ranch hand in something of a madcap race; soon the couple rode neck and neck as they approached the door of the ranch house.

Bringing her horse to a dead stop in the grasses of the lawn beneath her, Abigail turned slightly in her saddle to regard Cal with cold eyes.

“We’d best get inside the house,” she told him, tone dry and noncommittal. “It’s high time for supper.”

Cal nodded.

“Indeed it is,” he allowed, adding as he inclined his head in her direction, “Before we chow down, though, I have a question for you. Would you consider bein’ my date for the barn dance this Friday night? The one that Old Man Hodges is hosting at his farm on the south side of town?” he paused here, adding as he held his hands up before him in what seemed a defensive stance, “Now before you tell me to go to blazes and ride clean off my range, consider this. As the deputy sheriff of this town, I am expected to attend this dance—half to keep the peace, half to make an appearance on behalf of the sheriff’s department. Sheriff Michaels expects me to come—if I don’t, well then I could be out of a job!”

Abigail shrugged.

“Sorry to hear that,” she allowed, adding with arched eyebrows, “All the same, surely you know a lot of pretty young ladies in town. Why not ask one of them?”

Cal shook his head.

“As my brother Stephen reminded me today, Abigail, many people in town happen to think of us as husband and wife,” he reminded her. “I do not want the populace I serve to take me for a cheatin’ cad. And I can guarantee you, Abigail, that if you agree to tag along to this particular dance, you won’t get stuck alone in the corner.” He paused here, adding in a loud and declaratory tone, “Nobody sticks Abby in a corner!”

Abigail had heard enough.

“Oh criminy,” she declared, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “No need to be such a cornball, Cal. I’ll go to the dag gum dance.”

Abigail came close to regretting these words a few days later, as she found herself poised at the broad apple red doors that fronted a massive, ably constructed barn; a structure that would be the site of a dance that she had no earthly desire to attend.

Dressed once again in that ancient torture device known as a dress, Abigail winced beneath the weight of a stern tied bodice that came darned close to cutting off her circulation; even as she did have to pause and admire the design of the dress itself.

A gift from her date for the evening, who had purchased the exquisite garment from a dress shop downtown, this exquisite frock boasted a full scarlet-hued calico skirt adorned with a pattern of bright yellow roses—appropriate, she supposed, especially when topped with a lush ivory cotton top graced with lacy sleeves and a high lace collar.

A pair of sleek ivory hand gloves and a gold-tinted heart shaped choker—also gifts from an attentive Cal—completed the look, which she wore with pride as she strode headfirst into the barn that had been morphed this evening into a social hall.

Her soft dark hair piled high atop her head; Abigail lifted her chin as she clutched her smooth, voluminous skirts and made her way between lines of people who talked, danced and nibbled on cheese, corncakes, and bon bons.

Several onlookers performed marked double takes as they identified the mysterious beauty who roamed among them; their eyes flying wide as they identified the lady as good ol’, hardworking Abigail Tompkins.

One man, in particular, stared enrapt as Abigail came to stand stock still before him; his mouth falling agape as he beheld his date for the evening.

“You’re beautiful, Abigail,” Cal breathed, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “Absolutely lovely.”

Abigail snorted loudly, adding a very human dimension to her glamorous façade.

“Yeah, well don’t let it get around,” she chided, adding as she waved an admiring hand down the length of his tall, muscled form, “And may I return the compliment? You are even more handsome than customary this evenin’ Cal; how’d you manage that?”

Cal did indeed shine resplendent in a fine curved cutaway coat with a red brocade vest and white cotton shirt underneath; also cutting an exquisite form in black pin-striped pants and a smooth dark cravat that completed the look.

Also, striking was the charming white toothed smile he now flashed in her direction.

“Well thank you, Miss,” he praised her, adding as he struck a low courtly bow in her direction, “On this night, though, I do not want you to think of me as Cal, the rancher and good friend whose land you happen to work. I want you to regard me as a mysterious handsome stranger who has swept into your life to show you the meaning of romance.” He paused here, adding as he clasped her hand in his and led her in the direction of the dance floor, “May I have this dance?”

Although still surrounded on all sides by bundles and bales of fresh-sown hay, the candlelit center of the dance floor proved an ideal platform for a couple who seemed to want little more than to lose themselves in one another’s arms. And with a single smooth flourish Cal launched them into a dance that felt more like a romantic embrace.

Abigail thrilled as her ardent date gathered her up in his muscled arms; wrapping his sturdy hands around her full waist and swinging and swaying her across the floor.

Bracing her arms around his bulging shoulders, she finally allowed herself the sublime pleasure of touching the man she’d admired for so long; pressing herself against his hard massive chest as his trim toned hips cradled hers.

Losing herself in his masculine presence, she relaxed in the cocoon of his muscled embrace as he made her feel as light as air; most literally sweeping her off her feet as he now flew her across the floor.

Two became one as the couple writhed together, timing their moves to the melodic rhythm of a live fiddler who played with fervor at the head of the room.

Abigail brightened at the resounding notes of “San Antonio Rose,” one of her favorite classic ballads, and she nestled closer to her attentive dance partner as his hands ran like warm spring water down the planes of her back.

She felt his tender touch even through the tight corset that threatened to claim her sanity; yet as they moved as one with feather light steps in time with a timeless tune, all elements of discomfort and self-consciousness subsided abruptly—giving way to nothing but feeling.

Closing her eyes tight, the besotted woman felt her heart pound as he clutched her closer still; soon it was difficult to tell where one ended, and the other began as they dissolved in a dance that likened an embrace.

These eyes flew open moments later, as her dance partner drew back only slightly to stare deep into her eyes.

“See, Miss Abigail?” Cal asked her, tone both tempting and teasing as he rubbed her broad shoulders and tilted his forehead gentle against hers. “Dancing isn’t as bad as all that—and neither, for that matter, is romance.”

Abigail smiled.

“Very true,” she assented with a dreamy sigh, adding as she pursed her lips in a mock show of skepticism, “I am still not at all convinced, however, about this thing they call kissing.” She paused here, adding as she inclined her head teasing in his direction, “Care to do some convincin’ this evening, Cowboy?”

She took in her breath as Cal met this challenge with a downright devilish smile.

“Well I’d much obliged Ma’am,” he assented on a growl, accenting his words with a good bit of action as he swept her up in his arms.

Claiming her lips in a passionate kiss, his full moist mouth massaged hers in soft hypnotic strokes.

Moaning outright in response, Abigail plied her date’s mouth with feverish kisses as their tongues entangled between them; their public surroundings dissolving around them as they engaged in their first passionate kiss.

Sinking full into his sheltering arms, Abigail trembled outright as his ardent kiss set her heart and body afire; sending thrilling tingles down her spine as his long wet tongue licked and laved her mouth.

The moment was fleeting.

“Well, I never!”

The couple broke their kiss as the sound of a pronounced sniff resounded just beside them; one produced by a petite, beautiful ebony haired woman dressed in a gown of stark black taffeta that seemed to befit her frowning—if still dazzling—face.

“Well, I never!” she repeated, regarding the couple with a condemning gaze as she stood beside them on the dance floor.

Unphased in the face of this blatant umbrage, a cool Abigail shrugged her shoulders in reaction to these words.

“No Ma’am, you probably haven’t ever,” she replied, adding with arched eyebrows, “And that’s the whole problem.”

The woman gasped.

“Well I guess that I’d expect nothing more from such a common woman as yourself,” she sniffed, adding as she pointed an accusing finger straight in Abigail’s direction, “You really have some nerve, Girl, living in sin with one of our finest citizens—and under his wife’s roof!”

Cal had heard enough.

“Now you listen here, Mrs. Susie Marks,” he bellowed, stepping between the two women as he seared their critic with a cold hard gaze. “Of the two women I see here before me, I’m afraid that only one could be called a lady,” he paused here, adding as he made a broad gesture in Abigail’s direction, “The fine woman you see before you works hard and diligent on my land—coming home at the end of the day to seek some deserved respite in her own room; one that’s separate from my own. You, on the other hand, made an inappropriate advance toward me in town two years ago; while both of our dearly departed spouses still lived. And, if you will rightly recall, I rejected you flat.”

Susie shook her head, her delicate cheeks flushing as she considered these words.

“Yes, well, I guess I went a bit out of my mind when Doc told my husband that he didn’t have much longer on this earth,” she explained, adding as she once again faced the couple before her with a rough, cutting glare, “It still ain’t proper for an unmarried man and woman to be sharin’ the same living quarters.”

Cal nodded.

“Well on that point Madame—and that point alone—you and I just happen to agree,” he acknowledged, adding as he wrapped an encompassing arm around the shoulders of his wide-eyed date, “And that is precisely why Miss Abigail and I plan to be married next month.”

“We do?” Abigail sputtered, recovering quickly as she kissed the cheek of her smiling “intended,” “Oh I mean, yes we do! I do, most literally!”

With this she grabbed her date’s muscled arms and pulled him into the spirited reel that had now erupted on the dance floor; a riotous square dance set to the tune of a lively fiddle.

The couple laughed and chortled like free-spirited youths as their steps became fast and frantic; soon they launched into a fast-paced do si do that sent them spinning across the floor.

“You make just about everything in life so much more fun!” Cal praised his dance partner, adding as he pulled her off to the side, “Still and all, I do believe I need just a bit of a rest. Care for some punch?”

Soon the couple stood beside a sparkling crystalline punch bowl that rimmed with scarlet liquid; sipping from delicate rose print tea cups as their gazes remained clenched.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about that miserable shrew back there,” he told her at one point, adding with a distinct wince, “She’s been chasing after me since we were kids, and never got the hint that I was never even remotely interested.”

Abigail shrugged.

“Oh that’s all right,” she allowed, adding with a slight wince all her own, “I’m just sorry that you had to lie for me.”

Cal frowned.

“Lie for you?” he repeated, adding as he shook his head in a show of pure confusion, “Not sure what you mean, love.”

Abigail gritted her teeth.

“Well in a noble effort to save my reputation,” she reminded him, “You told him that we were going to be married next month.”

Cal smiled.

“Well Miss,” he began, putting aside his punch glass and taking her hand in his, “I don’t see those words as a lie, as much as they are a wish or a dream.” He paused here, adding in a whisper, “I’m in love with you, Abigail. And with your kind permission, I would indeed like to marry you next month.”

Sniffing back some unbidden tears, his lady squeezed his fingers tight as she gave a vigorous nod in response to this warm proposal.

“I love you too, Cowboy—dang me, but I do,” she told him, adding as she reached forward to sear his carved cheek with an affirming kiss, “And yes, I will marry you.”

*****

Abigail felt as though he was floating in a dream; most literally.

Never had she imagined herself ensconced in a frock of such regal ivory finery; but indeed, the wedding gown that she now wore was a study in elegance. This white lace ball gown was culled from pure organza trimmed at the top with a fitted boned bodice and engraved lines of vertical ivory lace. A flowing train and an antique veil completed the look, as well as delicate satin slippers that took her through the door of the Dovecrest Chapel; a small but elaborate place of worship that would serve as the site of a wedding that day.

Staring with quiet admiration at the ebullient stained glass windows that lined all sides of the chapel, the bride stepped into a plush scarlet carpeted aisle that took her slowly in the direction of the man she loved.

Cal himself shone resplendent in a sleek brown wool davenport coat with a black velvet collar and matching trousers; an ensemble accented by a silver brocade vest and an ebony cravat with a gleaming diamond pin.

Another diamond glittered on Abigail’s finger moments later, as she and Cal faced a brass bordered altar lined with a wreath of resplendent yellow roses.

Inspecting this lush floral display with an analyzing eye, Abigail cocked her head as she whispered to her groom, “These flowers were taken from our ranch, yes? Well, they are lovely, but I’ve been thinking that we might try a new brand of seed….”

She broke off as her impatient groom silenced her with a binding kiss.

“Hush up and marry me already, sweet Abigail.”

Abigail thought a moment, then nodded.

“All right then. Have it your own dag gum way,” she relented, adding as she took her husband’s hand and turned with him in the direction of the altar, “Ring first, seed later. One thing I know for sure; for you and me Cal, there will always be roses.”

*****

THE END

A Heart in the West – A Clean Western Romance

Chapter 1

It was the late summer of 1871 when Cora Sutton left from the big city and boarded the Lil’ Miss, a prize addition to the East Missouri Rail operations. She boasted less than a week’s journey from Boston to the Western territory, and just two and a half weeks to California, notwithstanding unexpected delays in the form of weather and shady characters with sights on her cargo.

It can’t very well be all that bad, Cora Sutton had thought as she boarded the train, her carpet bag nearly falling at the seams. Perhaps she should have stowed away books in a travel chest, and not in her bag. But what else was she to do with the time? Cora laughed as she bumbled down the aisle to her coach, chiding at her wandering imagination.

Train bandits don’t really exist, not in real life, she said to herself. And the Western territory surely isn’t all that wild…

The thought would prove a cruel stroke of irony in the days to follow.

For the time being, all she had to set her sights on was taming her imagination from getting away from her. Cora admitted to herself that she was actually quite excited. A serendipitous ad in the paper. A snap decision. And the promise of a new life out West. It all sounded rather romantic for a simple hosiery girl at Freeman’s Department Store--well, former hosiery girl. One day, she was living a dull, hapless life on the bustling streets of New York City, and the next she was set for life. Or she would be, as there were some small details yet to attend to.

It started about two months before the Lil’ Miss even slugged her way into Grand Central Station. Cora worked as the assistant stocker at one of the finest department stores in Manhattan. The marble ceilings rose as high as three levels, with bright crystal chandeliers glittering in the light. The sound of women, of the most well-to-do-sort, clicked their shoes and brushed their puffed dresses through the ground floor, eyeing the delights the store had to offer. For Cora, the closest she could ever come to such a life was spent in the back closets of the store, stocking the hosiery and other ladies’ garments. It was quite the accomplishment even getting that far. Before hosiery girl, she had a stay as a seamstress, but not for long as she had little to no skill in such delicate matters. Then there was a brief stint working in a factory making women’s hat boxes, which proved to be a tedious task that required too much focus for a constant daydreamer. Nanny, flower girl, a shoemaker’s store clerk...and the list went on.

Life, she had long ago decided, was unutterably dull.

So it came to her surprise when she was informed she would no longer be needed at Freeman’s department store. There were always prettier, talented, more qualified girls to work the store and spruce up the general atmosphere. A new direction for a new age, she was told. And that new age did not include the likes of her.

That was what brought her to take the first step. To be exact, it was that and the upping of the next month’s rent.

“But Mrs. MacDonough, I’ll get a new job soon, ma’am. If you just give me a little more time, I can pay you what I owe.”

Cora’s mind drifted to an earlier conversation she had with her landlord, Mrs. MacDonough, a stout and rather stern Irish woman who rented out her building to all sorts, mostly immigrants and newcomers into the city.

“Aye, Co-ra, I can’t be bothered’ with ye all the time,” she bustled across the hallway carrying a basket of her linens, and Cora traced after her.

“Ye never bring yer rent on time,” the woman continued in her thick accent. “And on top o’ that, I hear ye been sacked from Freeman’s this mornin’.”

“You already know about that?” Cora followed behind.

Mrs. MacDonough stopped and sighed as she waved her finger toward Cora’s face.

“Now lookee, Miss, I can’t be competin’ like I do with all the other landlords around. There’re plenty of others who need a place, jus’ as much as you. And they deserve it every bit, too. And they’re also in dire straits for an opportunity”

“But…”

“No buts, Cora. I’m broken hearted as much as you, but that’s jus’ life, it is.”

It was a miserable few months following. Cora moved into a dingy hostel in Brooklyn, making her way with measly compensation at a butcher’s shop. The boss didn’t much like the idea of hiring a young woman for such a job, but Cora insisted she could just as easily pick it up. It didn’t mean that the work was pleasant.

One day, she made her way out from a long shift, after having cleaned the back room, her clothes smelling like raw meat, her boots wet after hosing off the blood. She was headed down a street she headed down every day. Took the same turns, watched the same faces walk past. Everything was quite the same. That is, until a certain leaflet from a newspaper caught her eye. It seemed positively serendipitous. A stray page, a gust of wind, and soon she was staring at an ad that seemed to be shouting directly at her.

Wanted: Young woman of intelligence, refined, and possessing means. Gentleman landowner seeking a match of high pedigree. Must be willing to relocate at short notice.

At first Cora laughed. The idea of being a mail-order bride certainly seemed like an odd one, like from a story in a magazine or a tale that old grandparents tell. But Cora was sure of one thing: she had no family, no ties, and no where to go but up.

Besides, she reasoned, it really is quite the romantic story.

Cora nestled herself onto the seat, sliding herself against the window as the locomotive wheezed, her wheels beginning to make the heaving creak out of the station. The ticket master came and punched her ticket, and her insides leapt with excitement as the view outside begin to whir past, the loud whistle sounding, the steady churn of the wheels matching to the rhythm in her own heart.

This is it, she reminded herself. This is my new start.

From here on out, Cora imagined life going by without a hitch. Well, perhaps there was one small fly in that ointment. There were, after all, a few...liberties...Cora had taken to grab the opportunity before it escaped.

The end justifies the means, she told herself.

Besides, in her eyes, Cora Sutton deserved just as much a happy ending as Mistress Cora LeBlanc, the wealthy and debonair young aristocrat aboard the Lil’ Miss, on her way to meet the man she’ll marry.

Chapter 2

“Expecting a shipment this afternoon, Mr. Dansby?”

The mustached outpost manager tipped his hat toward the tall and dark Joshua Dansby. Mr. Dansby tipped his hat toward the man, his other hand tucked neatly into his suited pocket.

“Nothing big, Mr. Stanfield. Waiting for a person, actually. Not a shipment.”

Mr. Stanfield raised an eyebrow, but kept his words to himself. No sense in poking into the affairs of a man as private as Joshua Dansby, or at least as private a man could be in his position. Mr. Stanfield looked at the stopwatch in his hand, and dropped it into his front vest pocket, and made his way into the station house.

Joshua Dansby leaned toward the rail, the balls of his feet bouncing on the wooden boardwalk of the outpost. It was a rather overcast day, but generally clear sights as far as one could make out. He kept looking impatiently toward the sky, as if somehow he could discern from the clouds or the breeze the distance of the oncoming train, or hear faintly the loud whistle of the Lil’ Miss making her way into the outpost. No such luck.

Mr. Dansby stopped his movements and straightened his suit coat. Moving so much would make him seem nervous, and in fact it served to actually make him nervous, if not for just a moment.

There’s nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself.

It was unconventional for the both of them. He never really anticipated being one of those type of men who would place an ad out East to find a wife. But there were extraneous circumstances out of his control, and if he was going to take matters back into his own hands…

He cleared his throat and walked toward the station house. He removed his hat, the coolness from being under the awning shadowing his dark brown hair.

“Mr. Stanfield, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the Lil’ Miss supposed to have come in over an hour ago?”

Mr. Stanfield stood upright and checked at his pocket watch, then at a chart along the wooden panel wall of the station house.

“That’s correct, Mr. Dansby. It is quite odd that she’s not as on time as she usually is...but perhaps the weather hit them first and has slowed them down.”

“Weather,” Joshua Dansby echoed.

“Yes, sir.”

Joshua Dansby sighed and fixed his hat once again atop his head.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

Mr. Dansby draped off his suit coat and handed it through the station house window toward a surprised Mr. Stanfield.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dansby, I don’t know what you mean--”

“Just hold on to it for a while,” Joshua made haste down the outpost steps, calling out with a waved hand. “I’ll be back in a bit. Get ahold of the Sheriff.” And to himself, he said in a low, hushed tone, “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

A stunned Mr. Stanfield merely stuttered a “Y-y-yes, sir.” before Joshua Dansby had fled from the site.

He approached the buggy he arrived in, with his horse, Kan, enjoying the overgrown yellow-green grasses nearby. Joshua untied the reins and slung himself atop his horse.

Leaving the buggy behind, the broad shouldered man took off into the distance. The clouds seemed to be gathering faster, and darker, and Joshua Dansby continued headlong beside the tracks, Eastward.

This is impossible, Cora thought to herself as she ducked breathlessly into her coach cabin.

A scream and some shouts filled the passenger car in front of her. There weren’t many in her own car, but she could hear murmurs and worried rustling in the cabins beside her. They heard it too.

She had read of stories of bandits and seen news clippings of railway robbers, but nowhere had she accounted for the possibility of it ever really happening. And especially not to her.

The Lil’ Miss had come to a complete standstill about three and a half miles out from the post. A pretty daring proximity to town for a band of robbers in the Western territory.

There were more shouts and rustling coming from the cabin before her. Probably looting the passengers. If they were like any of the smart bands of thieves she read about in books, no doubt some were going through the cargo hold at the tail-end of the train, mounting what they could onto their getaway buggies. The others were slowly making their way through the cabins, scaring the passengers into giving up their on-hand possessions.

Cora smirked. Good thing I’ve got nothing worth stealing.

It wasn’t the best thing to necessarily be proud of.

The footsteps and sounds came closer. Cora had to think fast.

She quickly checked that her boots were laced tightly, and with an air of rather unlady-like behavior, brought her dress into a knotted tie at her waist.

I can’t very well make a getaway with this cumbersome number, she smiled to herself. She had to admit. The thrill of the adventure was quite a rush.

Much better than sewing hat boxes, she thought to herself.

Baring open the cabin window, Cora peeked out, and up toward the roof.

Looks like rain.

A light breeze wafted its way past, lifting at some stray strands that became untucked from her braided hair. For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of horse hooves in the distance, but she brushed off the idea as her imagination once again getting carried away. In the city, there were so many sounds and sights that rarely did anything jump out in particular. Everything melded together after a while. But out in the country, with such vast expanses of quiet, each noise was something new to her, and entirely unfamiliar.

There was a slight rim siding below the window of the car. If she could scale along the rim as a step, perhaps she would be able to get down and…

What then? Cora could at least hide until the bandits passed, maybe summoned for help somehow. They weren’t to be too far from their destination anyway…

She could work out the details later. For now, the thrill awaited.

Cora propped herself, though rather clumsily, at the sill, and over, her hands keeping at the window sill, and using her feet to prop against the outside wall of the car as she slowly felt for the rim below her. When her boot’s toe caught on, she heaved a sigh.

But then the unthinkable began to happen. A loud wheezing sounded from far ahead the train, as if the brakes…

“Oh no,” Cora mumbled.

The train began to move. Had the robbers decided on a faster getaway? And were they taking everyone along with them?

As Cora began to feel a sudden panic, the sound of horse hooves once again broke up her thoughts. It really was the sound of hooves. They were gaining closer, against the train as it began to gain speed. It was near.

“Oof!” Cora felt a sudden wrench at her waist, a strong arm draping across and lurching her off the side of the train car. She soon found herself draped across a galloping horse like a sack of flour. Her sides buffeted against the saddle uncomfortably.

“It’s alright, ma’am, I’ve got you.”

The smooth, deep sound of a man’s voice made Cora instantly grow hot in the face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cora continued to shout at the unknown assailant while trying to maintain her balance. “No one just yanks on a lady like that and--and slings her over your horse like some potato sack!”

The man laughed. “A lady wouldn’t be caught dead sporting that particular style, Miss. I can guarantee that.”

She attempted to pull down at her dress, suddenly conscious of her underthings showing, but her current position demanded that she hold on.

“Don’t look, you disgusting man!”

He laughed again.

“I’m not interested in your type,” he shouted.

Cora grew more furious. Was he entertained in all this?

“And what--what exactly--” she hiccuped between words, and braced herself against the jostling of the saddle. “What type am I exactly?”

The man pulled on the reins and gave a steadying “whoa” to his horse as they came to a stop, the train now out of site, barreling toward the station, with the intent to ride on past, no doubt.

Cora welcomed the steadiness, and relaxed for a brief moment, soon interrupted by the man’s low, mocking laugh.

“The type who tries to make a clean break out the side of a train during a heist,” he said. Cora’s face grew hot at the amusement in his voice. “That’s a strange kind of woman I want nothing to do with.”

Cora went limp, slumping as she sighed on the horse.

“Then thankfully, you don’t have to do anything with such a lady--”

“No, not a lady,” he mused. “Just a woman.”

“Well that’s just about all I can handle,” she exclaimed. Cora had enough. She clumsily slid off the horse, her boots hitting the ground a bit off-kilter. But with a bit of maneuvering and luck to save-face, Cora steadied herself and began to rush away from the man.

“Wait!” he called out.

Cora shook her dress free so that it fell once again to her feet, not daring to look back at the man who caught her.

“Who does he think he is?” she said to herself. “Some sort of chivalrous prince who thinks he can just wander along and pick up damsels in distress along the rail? These Western territory men are really something else.”

She kicked at the grass in front of her as she tried to straighten out her braid. “I would know,” she continued to rant under her breath. “I lived in New York City for crying out loud. The men can’t get any worse.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she heard a shout and the sound of a horse trotting its way towards her.

Even when his shadow began to eclipse her, she refused to look.

“I’m going into town. I can’t be far. I’m going to get help.”

“It’s about three and a half miles into town. Are you sure you want to walk all the way?”

Cora felt her fists ball, and her cheeks grow hot.

“I would rather walk, than to be dragged along like some sort of produce sack.”

He laughed. “Very well.”

She wandered on toward town, or the general direction she seemed to be needing. Darker clouds began to gather, but Cora was of no mind to it. She walked on in silence, with the horse-man following silently beside.

Cora took a moment to glance beside her. The muscular, red-brown horse rode dutifully under the man whose broad hands commanded the reigns. His white button down was a bit disheveled at the collar, and Cora found her cheeks to be growing warm, watching him sit atop his steed, his hat shadowing his dark brown hair, some tousled bangs falling before his eyes, and his rough but clean jaw making his overall appearance to seem more well-to-do than she anticipated a rugged horseman in the West.

He seemed to be looking away, not noticing her glance, but then the edge of his lip widened to reveal a small dimple at his cheek, and his bright blue eyes flashed their way down toward her direction.

“Are you still intent on being so stubborn?” he said.

Cora looked away in an instant, embarrassed, and fuming at letting her mind wander.

“Certainly not all men from this part of the country are so--so--incredibly forward and--and--quite frankly, uncouth.”

“Uncouth?” he feigned sounding hurt, but she could tell that he was slightly amused. “Says the Miss who was shouting at me not too many moments ago--saying things a gentleman should never repeat.”

They continued to walk on, when Cora’s dress snagged on a drying, thorned shrub. She teased frustratedly at her dress, battling against the bush.

“This wilderness is impossible!”

At once, she reached back with a pull, her dress finally being released, though not without a tear, and fell back onto her bottom, hitting an open patch of moist dirt.

She immediately felt her cheeks glow red.

“Now will you reconsider?” The man on the horse lent his hand down for her as she steadied herself upright, attempting to brush off the mud, but only smearing it further down the backside of her dress. The clouds began to gather more darkly, and Cora took a second thought.

“If I let you give me a ride, you should know…” She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t like you,” she pointed up at him.

“Blunt,” he pursed his lips. “I would say I like that in a woman, but in this case...I couldn’t care less.”

“Fine,” she said.

“Fine,” he said.

And they rode on in silence.

Chapter 3

“Joshua Dansby,” Sheriff Pickett greeted Joshua and Cora as they rode in toward the station. A closed buggy door was being closed and carted off by the Deputy policeman.

“Sheriff,” Joshua tipped his hat and slung off.

The two men shook hands and Joshua got a good look at the scene. The robbers were already being brought into town, and the passengers were being escorted off of the train, and onto the platform.

“Glad you made it in time,” Joshua said.

“Well, thankfully I wasn’t too far along from the area,” Sheriff Pickett tipped his hat toward Cora, still sitting atop the horse, silent and her face flushed.

“Afternoon ma’am,” he said.

Cora nodded, red-cheeked and turned forward once again, clearly embarrassed to be seen with a strange man in such a way.

“Seems you tried to take matters into your own hands,” Sheriff Pickett laughed.

“When I got out there, they were already making off with the train. Glad the conductor seems to have taken his engine back.” He nodded in the distance to a bruised and bloodied conductor holding a wet rag to his face, clearly having been in an altercation.

“Well,” Joshua said. “It looks like there’ll be a delay.”

The two men surveyed the group of confused and stunned passengers. Joshua took a glance toward the sky, the clouds now dark as ever, ready to burst at any moment.

“Sheriff,” Joshua said. “Feel free to invite all the passengers to be able to stay the night at the Stanton. There are plenty of rooms open, and it will be all on me.”

“That’s mighty generous of you, Mr. Dansby,” the Sheriff replied.

“It’s the least I could do,” Joshua said.

The two parted ways as the Sheriff continued toward the platform, making arrangements for transportation and informing everyone about Mr. Dansby’s offer. It would be at least a day or two before the Lil’ Miss would be back in commission, and so all were offered a stay at the best hotel in town, The Stanton.

Owned by Joshua Dansby’s family, as were most of the business endeavors in the town, the Stanton was a prized jewel of the Western territory. It had a rustic charm that made it so all businessmen and wayfarers were pressed to stop by when coming through these parts. It was in convenient proximity to the mainstay of the town, but overlooked the rolling, unmarked hills of the prairie, a paradise in the West.

Joshua turned to the woman who still sat upon Kan, who was biding his time eating the grass by his feet.

“Would you like to come down?”

She refused to look at him, and he laughed at her indignation. She was an annoyingly stubborn woman. He was glad he only had to deal with her just this once.

“Alright,” she said. “I...I might need some help.”

Her face was red, and for a moment Joshua was almost taken aback by the way her cheeks flushed, and her braid fell to the side and framed her face.

“Oh, so now you want my help?” he said.

He helped her down, and she swayed as her feet hit the ground.

“You’ve never been on a horse before?” he mused, her large, brown eyes open wide as she attempted to figure out how to walk on the ground again.

“Of course not,” she said. “And I’m perfectly fine. Just a little...tired from being tossed around by the likes of you!”

She forced herself to stand up straight, but Joshua could tell by her face that her legs were not quite at ease with the transition from horse to land.

“Anyway, I have to be going. There’s someone I’m supposed to meet today,” she continued, snubbly. “Someone, I’m sure, who has a lot more class than you.”

Joshua smirked, his eyes glinting even beneath the shadow of his hat. “As classy as you?” He laughed and began walking toward the station platform, fully aware that the woman behind him must have been fuming.

I just can’t stand the hot headed ones, he thought to himself. Thankfully, I don’t have to.

Most people had already made their way in buggies toward town, and The Stanton. There weren’t a great lot of many travelers that tended to head so far east, and so only a few trips were able to bring the people to and fro. Joshua and Cora waited on opposite ends of the platform. Cora had her eyes shift through the clusters of people that remained, or those crew and men who still worked nearby.

Joshua Dansby, with his coat now returned from Mr. Stanfield, fixed at his hair, combing it back with his long fingers, and placing his hat atop. He straightened his collar and cuffs, buttoning his suit. He looked once again as if a man who would much sooner be attending an event at The Stanton, than a man who had been riding across country with his horse.

By now, what little tinge of embarrassment or nervousness Joshua had felt, seemed to have dissipated and he was well-ready to present himself to the incoming bride.

Perhaps it was his meeting earlier, with a woman so wild and untamed, that he felt ready to accept what came next. Anything seemed better than that. He hoped, at least, that she would be not entirely unpleasant to look at, though he had really paid no mind to age or looks. He needed a woman of good breeding if he was going to successfully convince his family…

“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Dansby,” Mr. Stanfield came and stood beside Joshua who was lost in his future calculations. “Who exactly are you looking for?”

Joshua pursed his lips, shifting his eyes to the side then back to Mr. Stanfield.

“Please don’t repeat this anywhere else, or to anyone else,” he began.

Mr. Stanfield nodded, assuredly. “Of course, Mr. Dansby. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Joshua coughed and made his voice low, lowering himself toward the shorter Mr. Standfield. “I’m waiting for a woman.”

“A woman, Mr. Dansby?” Mr. Stanfield’s voice burled underneath his mustache.

Joshua feigned clearing his throat and stood once again upright, his hands fixing at his suit.

After a moment of silence, and perhaps trying to comprehend exactly what the young, brooding man meant, Stanfield’s red face soon puffed round at the sides with a smile.

“Oh, Mr. Dansby! Why, congratulations!”

Joshua’s face gave a hint of red, but he tipped his hat, using the shadow to hide any evidence.

Mr. Stanfield surveyed the crowd of people that remained near the post, and another group of people boarded a buggy, headed toward town.

“Mr. Dansby, perhaps if you described her, I can help you to locate her.”

“I’m afraid you know just about as much as I do, Mr. Stanfield,” Joshua muttered.

Mr. Stanfield’s eyes widened.

“Oh--oh my. Well then. Perhaps…”

The two of them scanned the area, and still no obvious choices.

“I don’t understand,” Joshua began. “She was definitely supposed to be on this train...she--”

Joshua stopped mid-sentence, an uneasy feeling now dawning on him.

He turned around to meet eyes with Cora on the other end of the platform, her face telling of her own kind of realization.

“You,” he shouted.

“You yourself!” she shouted back.

The two of them marched toward one another, livid at the notion.

“You lied to me!” Joshua called as he neared.

“You aren’t exactly a prize yourself,” Cora sneered.

Then, only a breath away, Joshua Dansby and Cora Sutton met, for the first time to each other, and the second time that day.

Chapter 4

“A deal is a deal,” Joshua Dansby paced outside, in front of the small house of the town minister.

“Exactly. A word is a word,” Cora folded her arms, her foot tapping in the grass nearby.

Joshua let out a snort. “And exactly how much is a word worth from a Cora LeBlanc?”

“Why does it matter? You live in the rugged wilderness,” Cora’s hands flew into the air. “Why do you need a fancy, French aristocrat in the middle of this dust heap?”

Joshua wiped at his jaw, a hand on his hip, sending a darting look to Cora.

“A girl like you would never understand.”

“Girl?” Cora was taken aback.

Joshua pointed his finger at her. “Yes, girl. You thought you’d take advantage of an opportunity, come here, get rich, live some hokey fairytale, did you?”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Believe me, this is anything but a fairytale.”

“You don’t understand,” Joshua sighed, and locked eyes with Cora. For the first moment since they had met, Cora thought she noticed real desperation and sadness in his eyes, and not the gleaming playfulness he first showed off before they knew. She looked away.

“My name is Joshua Dansby,” he said.

“I know that already,” Cora sighed.

“--I know, but you don’t understand what that means.” Joshua held his hand to his chest. “I’m the Joshua Dansby. Now, I know that doesn’t mean much to you, coming from the shady streets of New York City--”

Cora opened her mouth in protest, but Joshua stopped her.

“Here,” he said, “that means that I’m the heir of the Dansby fortune. I’m the only son of Michael Wetherby Dansby, who’s the grandson of Jacob Thomas Dansby, who was the founder of this town. He cultivated the land, practically built the town himself. Responsible for the wellbeing of the people, of the cattle ranches, of ensuring the best for this whole region--he’s the one who brought the rail to us, and made jobs open for so many people moving out here..”

For a moment, Cora felt her heart beating a little faster. Joshua Dansby began to be more animated as he spoke, and she almost forgot their earlier stint.

“All of that is supposed to go to me, or at least, I thought it would. Turns out that a man named Walter Howell, my father’s cousin, has rights to the inheritance. And my stubborn, stubborn old fool of a grandfather, when he made his will to grant me the land, he had one stipulation. You know what that was? I had to be married. Married!”

Joshua took of his hat and ran his hand through his hair, and Cora’s heart beat once again at the sight, though she reprimanded herself inwardly for it.

“It’s the 1870s for crying out loud,” he continued. “If a man wants to make a living, he ought to be able to do it all without a wife. But the old man was just so old-fashioned.” Joshua sighed. “That’s why I needed a wife. And a well-bred one at that. There’s a board of directors I have to go up against, and Walter’s got his lawyers watching my every move. There’s no way you’d last one day in high society. New York or not, I can tell you’re just a regular miss off the street.”

He turned his back away, but not without avoiding Cora who spun her way around to face him.

“A regular miss off the street?” she exclaimed. “I may not have a family, or much money, or be your definition of high-class, but I’m not just some rat on the street. You’re an insufferable, vain, degrading man, and I will not continue to be insulted by you constantly.”

She backed down, and folded her arms. “And I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Joshua noticed the change in her tone, and watched as she looked off, almost sadly, toward the ground. The breeze picked up as the clouds continued to gather, still holding off the rain. Strands of her brown hair flitted loose from her braid and across her face.

He was taken aback. She looked almost...pretty.

Her voice brought him back to the moment.

“For a long time, I’ve been wanting to start over. Life has never been…” she glanced at him. “Easy for someone like me. I admit that lying about who I was...was wrong. But believe me when I say that...at the time, I felt like I had no other choice. And this sounded too good to be true…”

Cora’s big brown eyes gazed up at him, glistening. Joshua nearly choked on his own words. As stubborn and immature as she seemed, apologizing must have been difficult, and her eyes said everything.

“Okay,” he said, and he began walking up the steps to knock on the minister’s door.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Cora called out from the grass.

“What does it look like?” he gestured for her to come follow. “A deal is a deal. And, maybe, if you help me...if, when the time comes, you find yourself back on your feet and choose to leave...I won’t stop you.”

And they walked toward a new life together. For the time being.

The rain didn’t take long to unleash. Just moments before arriving at Joshua Dansby’s, the newlyweds, Cora and Joshua, were caught in the rain.

“Richest guy in town and you can’t have a covered buggy?” Cora shouted. Joshua helped to get her off of Kan, and they made their way to the barn.

“Help me dry him off.” Joshua began to gather rags and towels nearby to drape across the great horse, his own clothes drenched. He removed his suit, and the damp white button down pressed against his broad chest.

We’re married now, Cora reminded herself. But she couldn’t help but still be embarrassed and looked away.

Her dress hung heavily with water as she grabbed for a towel.

“We’re drying the horse when we’re the ones who are soaking wet?” she retorted.

“He’s been with me through a lot,” Joshua said. “I don’t want him to get sick after all this.”

Cora slogged toward the horse, but grunted with the weight of her dress.

“You simply don’t understand how incredibly difficult this is,” she exclaimed. She reached for the outer layer of her dress.

“What--what in the--” Joshua looked away as he continued to see to Kan. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve already seen it before,” Cora muttered. “I’m just taking off the outer layer. I’m still covered, Mister.”

She muttered under her breath, what Joshua could barely make out as something along the lines of “disgusting” or “pervert.”

Joshua’s face glowed red. He had begun to think he hadn’t really thought this through.

Oh, sure, Joshy, get a mail-order bride, he chided himself, what could possibly go wrong with that?

After several minutes, the rain continued to pour outside, and Cora leaned against a post near the door, listening to the rain pounding on the roof, watching the water fall down, splattering against the muddy ground.

Even a muddy rain is more beautiful out here, she thought. And her mind began to drift to stories and imaginations once again.

“Cora,” Joshua’s voice came from behind, startling her.

She turned around and peered to see Joshua among the hay and stalls of the few animals harboring from the weather, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Up here,” he called, and Cora looked up.

She made her way up a narrow winding of stairs that made their way to a loft in the barn.

A bed, and a small seating area were settled, as if for a makeshift bedroom. The extra hay bales and milk tins added an extra flair to the scene.

“This is quite lovely,” she said.

Joshua gave a mock curtsy. “Anything for you, dear.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Please don’t patronize me, Dansby.”

“That hurts. Not even going to call me by my name?”

Cora sighed and sent him a darting look. His blue eyes glistened with playfulness, as when they first met. Ever cool and mischievous.

“It’s an old trick I learned working for a butcher,” she smirked. “Never give them a name, or it makes it more complicated when you have to--”

Joshua laughed. “Please,” he held up his hand. “I think I know where you’re going with that, and I hope you don’t succeed.”

The two stood in the loft in silence, Cora’s eyes flitting around, taking in the atmosphere. Joshua was still very aware of her outfit, and the entirety of the situation seemed odd. They joked around, but it seemed to be, for both of them, a way to cope with the unwarranted and awkward situation they found themselves in.

“It’s raining heavily out there, and it’s dark, so I don’t think we should make a run for the main house,” Joshua said. “There’s a bed--”

Cora’s eyes grew wide. “You mean--”

Joshua stopped, his hands going up in defense. “Oh, no, no, no! I wasn’t saying--” He rubbed his hand uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t insinuating anything--” he sighed. “I was going to say that you should make yourself as comfortable up here as you can, and I’ll just be fine on the main floor.”

“Oh--oh--” Cora’s face blushed red as she realized how embarrassing of an assumption she had made. “Right, of course.”

Joshua coughed.

“Anyway, I should--I should--”

He gestured and Cora realized that she stood between him and the way below. Flustered, she stepped out of the way and swiped at her soppy hair.

“Right, sorry...I didn’t mean to…”

Joshua began heading down, calling behind. “Feel free to dry yourself with some towels I have up there...and, ah...I promise I won’t look if you need to---ah…” his voice trailed off without quite finishing, and he cleared his throat.

In that moment, Cora couldn’t help but laugh. This wasn’t at all how she ever pictured the first night of her married life to start. But then, anything she ever read in stories was proving to be completely unuseful in her current situation.

This is real, Cora told herself. This is my life.

Chapter 5

The sun peeked in through the barn early that morning. A loud cock-a-doodle-doo sounded from the barn, and Cora woke up with a start.

Didn’t that only happen in books?

For a brief moment, Cora had almost forgotten where she was. The bed, though certainly just a barn extra for field hands, was far more comfortable than the lumpy wretch that Cora had grown accustomed to at the hostel, and even better than what Mrs. MacDonough had to offer.

After she was sure that Joshua had settled in, and there was no chance of mischief, she had strung out the outer layers of her clothes to hang over the loft railing to dry in the night. Carefully working enough layers on to be somewhat decent, and after tightening the laces of her boots, Cora made her way down to the main floor.

“Hello?” she called. A few moments passed and nothing. Cora wandered out the big open doors of the barn, and looked around. The land looked different in the light, and without the cover of heavy rain and mist. The ground was still wet, but water droplets and dew illuminated the green all around. She followed the fenced area, where some pigs were sloppily rolling in the mud, eating at a basin with fresh feed.

Past the small farming area, with the animals, and a small plot of vegetables, the sandy road mark began to wind its way under and through great trees sprinkled in rows for as far as Cora could see. The sun bounced through the branches, and kaleidoscopes with the leaves sporting rain drops. Little red orbs also glistened in contrasting pockets against the green-leaf backdrop.

“Joshua?” she called out again.

As she continued to walk, she caught glimpse of a white farmhouse, smoke tufting out from the red brick chimney in the distance.

“Joshua?” Cora wandered from the wide wrap-around porch and into the house, where she immediately felt the smell of food coming from the room beside the entranceway.

“You’re finally up,” Joshua let down a plate of food on the table. Potato hash, eggs, and some meat--Cora’s eyes widened.

“Did you do all this?” she said.

“It’s more lukewarm now,” he said. “But I figured I’d go ahead and have you eat something at least.”

“How long have you been up?” Cora sat down on the wooden chair at the table.

It smelled good.

Joshua laughed. “A lot longer than you have,” he said. “A lot.”

He pulled up the suspenders that were limp at the side of his trousers through his arms and snapped them to his shoulder. Cora couldn’t help but still blush.

“I’m sure by now you noticed the cherry trees on your way in,” he said.

“They were beautiful,” Cora said.

The two of them were having a real conversation, and Cora smiled inwardly at that. Perhaps the end of a rain really did breathe in new life.

“One of our best exports,” he said. “This town grew up around, well, the river, of course, but also just as much the prize cherry orchard that my grandfather started.”

He pushed his feet into heavy work boots.

Cora smirked. “For a high society man, you’re really keen on being a farm boy.”

Joshua Dansby laughed, and Cora’s heart beat at the dimple that flashed in his cheek, his smile spreading across his face.

“Out here, it’s not so cut and dry as the East, I’m sure. Everyone’s got a little bit of farm boy in ‘em here. You have to be or you won’t make it.”

Joshua coughed into his sleeve.

“Are you alright?” Cora stood up.

He waved his hand at her. “I’m fine. Just a morning cough, is all.”

“You should be careful,” she said. “It’s real easy to catch a bad cold after a rain. You should take it easy, Joshua.”

Joshua stood up and made his way to the door, swinging his hat onto his head.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got to stake out for harvesting soon, so I don’t have much time to hang around. If you need me, I’ll be out in the trees.”

His piercing blue eyes glinted her way. “And, Cora?”

“Yes?”

He tipped his hat toward her. “Thank you for using my name.”

Cora pursed her lips and looked away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having warmed up to him.

In the least, she thought, he’s not repulsive.

And her heart beat as she thought of his smile, and those deep, blue eyes…

There wasn’t much to do around a great big house all alone. Cora amused herself by perusing the small library that Joshua built up in his study, of which there were many books she had never even heard of. It was enough to keep her occupied for a good part of the morning. She sat in a large armchair, under the portrait of a stout, old man with the same mischievous, cold stare that Joshua Dansby held. No doubt an old relative of years past.

She found herself entirely consumed by a fascinating article in a magazine, a fictitious story about a man and a stranger’s journey racing to the highest of heights in a magnificent air balloon.

It all was so curious and fascinating to Cora, she had almost forgotten the time.

As noon approached, Joshua still hadn’t been back to the house and, though she told herself she didn’t really care about him, Cora did have a sinking feeling in her gut.

She was just stepping outside, and onto the great porch, when a covered buggy came riding down the driveway. It slowed to a halt in front of her, and a man in a suit, with a walking stick and hat was escorted out by the tall, lean, and expressionless coach driver.

“The Mrs. Dansby, I presume?” The man who stepped out was plump, with a clean shaven face and wrinkled forehead. It seemed an unusually ordinate sight on the humble orchard estate of Joshua Dansby.

Cora did not reply, and the man stayed below the steps, and tipped his hat.

“Perhaps Joshua Dansby hasn’t spoken of me? I’m Walter Howell. His father was my cousin, and dear Joshua is a beloved nephew of mine.”

“I may have heard of you.”

His eyes squinted, as if not being able to peer under the bright sunlight. He looked Cora up and down, and she felt uncomfortable.

“If you’re looking for Joshua,” she said. “He’s not here right now. I can tell him you stopped by.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Well, we are all family now,” his arms swept open to illustrate. “Do tell Joshua that I’m looking forward to the hearing in a few weeks. Oh, and perhaps I should also mention that there have been a few new discoveries…” he toyed at his walking stick, and raised an eyebrow. “Regarding the will of his grandfather’s estate…”

“You can let him know yourself,” Cora’s brow furrowed, and she felt uneasy. “He shouldn’t be long.”

She dealt with many a rat in her day, literal and not, on the streets of New York City, and he gave her the same feeling: a complete and utter distaste.

“It does involve you too, mind you,” he smiled slyly, “So you should benefit from the news as well. It turns out, in the fine print, that Joshua Dansby mustn’t only be married, but he must be married for at least five years before the estate is turned over from the board to him. In such time as he is not in a consensual and lawful union, the estate will be turned over to the next closest heir. Which is indeed myself, madam.” Walter brought his hands to straighten as his suit collar.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem…” he smirked. “Especially as in love as you two obviously are. Why, practically beaming. There’s no possibility for it to be a sham or contractual obligation….bribery that would invalidate...oh, me. I seem to be getting carried away now. Let young Joshy know I stopped by.”

Cora’s eyes grew wide, and her fists balled at her side.

He knows, she said.

Walter got into his carriage and strode away, leaving an even deeper pit in Cora’s stomach.

Chapter 6

“Joshua!” She called into the orchard, lifting her dress from draping along the muddy and wet grass. The shade of the trees was cool and moist, but she had begun to grow increasingly worried. Where was Joshua? Meeting his despicable uncle was no help to the growing anxiety she felt pierce her within. She hadn’t known Joshua long...but she knew him long enough to see how much he cared for this land. From the way he treated his horse, to how passionately he reasoned to save his inheritance…

Whatever Walter Howell wanted, could only amount to no good.

“Joshua!”

Nothing.

She continued to trace along, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow in the distance, lying among the grass in the shade of a tree.

Her heart began to beat fast.

“Joshua!”

“Come on, stay with me,” Cora placed the cool wet cloth on Joshua’s forehead. Her dress was ripped and muddied, her sleeves scrunched up, her braid letting out unkempt wisps of brown hair.

Joshua laid on the couch in the library and study, his face red and body covered in sweat.

Cora was completely exhausted from having found him passed out in the orchard shade. She knew there was something wrong that morning, and she chided herself for not following her instinct sooner. It was a struggle getting Joshua back to the house, but thankfully he hadn’t been too far off. He must have been on his way in for lunch when the fit began. She didn’t bother trying to get to the second floor bedrooms, and opted for the flat couch-chair in the study.

Being a butcher’s assistant came in handy, Cora laughed to herself, attempting to lighten her own dark thoughts.

“You’re burning up,” Cora felt at his forehead, as he writhed, breathing heavily.

Cora had already removed his hat and shoes, and had been trying to cool him down with water.

She eyed at his chest, and for a moment, grew red.

“No,” she corrected herself. “I’m sorry,” she reached for his shirt. “I have to do this.”

Cora managed to sit Joshua up enough to pull the shirt off, undoing his suspenders. She blushed when her hands felt the ripples of his bare body, and she quickly laid him back down, bringing a cool rag to continue to pat him down.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured. He seemed to still be unconscious as she continued to tend to him.

For the next several hours, Cora continued to monitor him, washing him and doing what she could to whet down the fever.

He finally became conscious toward the late afternoon, waking up in a daze, swinging his feet over the chair, but not to get up before Cora came in and scolded him.

“You’re not fine,” she said, grabbing his arms and guiding him back down. He was still in a daze and consented.

“Just rest,” she said.

By evening, he was conscious, and while still afflicted, could manage a bit on his own. She offered him some chicken soup for dinner and he sat up groggily to spoon the soup from the bowl toward his lips.

“You can cook?” he muttered.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she teased. “I may not be very lady-like, but I can cook like a lady.”

“Where did you get the chicken?” he asked.

Cora pursed her lips.

“About that...well, I hope you don’t mind being down one less chicken…”

Joshua laughed, but soon began a coughing fit, and so Cora hushed him back to rest and cleaned up after them.

“You know, I was actually nervous.”

Joshua spoke low and softly, the fire flickering in the distance, glittering in his blue eyes. Cora stretched in her spot from leaning into the large armchair, and was taken aback by his tone.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“When I was waiting the other morning...I was actually nervous. I know I said that it was all purely business, and that I was doing it for the inheritance--” he pursed his lips. “But that morning, I was actually nervous. I was so scared that I was going to be a disappointment. I was afraid that this woman--whoever it was--was going to absolutely hate me.”

Cora leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand and laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” she smiled. “Not absolutely.”

Joshua chuckled.

“My grandfather always thought I spent too much time being serious. He always said I didn’t know the important things in life. I guess...this was his way to make sure I didn’t stay that way. From the grave.”

The two of them sat on in silence.

Cora cleared her throat.

“I never knew any of my family,” she said. “You’re really blessed to have had that. The idea of having my own family...of one day being able to call another person mine. That was my only dream growing up.”

Joshua could hear the longing in her voice. “What happened?”

“I grew up,” Cora sighed. “I learned that fairytales are meant for books. And families are meant for other lucky girls.”

Joshua watched as Cora leaned her face toward the window, the moonlight and fire, both swirling in her big brown eyes, mixing together in a wonderful medley.

Perhaps it’s just the fever, he thought, but in that moment, the two seemed to have finally been knit, and as he gazed at her, her tousled dress, her sad eyes, and the untamed hairs that strayed from her braid, she looked the most beautiful thing he had seen in a lifetime.

The days after seemed to move like the clouds across the midwest: quick and dissipating into the blue sky. Adjusting to each other’s presence was a chore for both Joshua and Cora, as headstrong as both were. Teaching Cora to be a lady was not as difficult as Joshua had intended.

“I read a lot of books,” she reasoned. “I can put on any face you like.”

So in a little over a month’s time, when Joshua finally introduced Cora to his family at a night gathering at the Stanton, everyone seemed utterly delighted to have met her.

“She’s marvelous,” his mother cooed across the table, the glasses sparkling underneath the light. “Why ever had we not been able to meet her until now?”

The other guests around the table laughed.

Joshua shifted in his seat, and Cora smiled, though sending a darting glance with her eyes. “We’re very private people,” he answered. “We thought it was best to keep our courtship...out of the public view.”

“New York City, eh?” A voice bellowed across the table toward Cora, an older male relative of Joshua’s. “What a grand city!”

“Yes’sir,” Cora smiled. “The grandest.”

The dinner continued joyously, with close family and friends present. Joshua and Cora appeared, to everyone, a wonderful match.

“Ahem,” a glass tinkered in the room, and it hushed as Walter Howell stood up.

“To my dear nephew,” he raised a glass, in toast.

Cora leaned toward Joshua. “And why did he have to be hear?”

Joshua sighed under his breath.

“He’s family, Cora. Can’t change that,” he said. “Not even if I wanted to.”

Walter continued in his accolade.

“Congratulations on the start of a new chapter in life. With all of this merriment, we still have yet to hear the story of how the two of you came to know on another…”

Joshua and Cora exchanged a wary glance.

“Oh, it’s not really exciting,” Joshua cleared his throat.

“But Joshy, we’re all dying to know,” Walter’s eyes glinted, the crows feet around them crinkling with glee. “Or perhaps your lovely bride can share with us.”

Joshua’s mother clapped her hands together happily.

“Please, Cora, you must tell. I bet it’s a fabulous story…”

“Like Joshua said,” Cora smiled, her heart beating. Where was Walter going with this? “It’s not terribly interesting…”

Walter’s laugh bellowed. “Dear Cora, please enlighten us. How could it not be interesting. Tell me just this one thing--what went through your mind when you first saw an ad in the local paper for a mail-order bride?”

Confused murmurs hushed through the room. Cora’s eyes grew wide and Joshua stood up.

“Mail-order what? Joshua, what is Walter talking about?”

“Enough of this,” Joshua said firmly.

Walter’s brow furrowed as he peered at Cora.

“It must have been quite the opportunity for a poor, orphan hosiery girl,”

“Stop this at once!” Joshua’s fist pounded at the table, and gasps of surprise rippled throughout the room.

Cora’s eyes began swelling, and her chest tightened up, as if she were unable to breath.

I didn’t want any of this, Cora thought.

She looked up at Joshua who was shouting at Walter to get out, to leave her alone, to leave his family alone.

Cora didn’t want to cause so much trouble.

“The board of trustees will hear about this,” Walter said on his way out. “Say goodbye to your precious orchard, Joshua. A mill is what’s going to bring business. A mill to get rid of all that darned wasted-space and pointless cherry trees of yours. Your father was a sap, and so was your grandfather. But I--”

Joshua walked toward Walter, and a few other guests stepped in front to hold Joshua back as Walter slunk out.

His heart was pounding. His mother, confused, kept demanding questions from him, and all he could think to do was protect Cora. It was over. All of it. He lost everything.

Joshua turned around toward his table, only to stop in his tracks. He looked amongst the room, which was now in chaos of people muttering, not knowing what to make of the scene.

“Cora?” he called. She was gone.

The Lil’ Miss was making her way back east, and stopping once again for Cora. This time, though, she seemed less a fantastical vision of adventure and freedom, and more like the old hunk of metal that she was.

“Just one ticket,” Cora received the stub through the window at the station.

Mr. Stanfield’s brow furrowed upon seeing the face at the booth, his gray eyes glinting underneath his spectacles.

“Miss Cora…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stanfield,” Cora’s eyes glistened, but she held back tears. “It didn’t work out…”

Mr. Stanfield sighed.

“I’m awfully sad to hear that, Miss Cora. I thought for sure that you were the one.”

“The one?” Cora perked up curiously.

“Oh, yes’m,” Mr. Stanfield said. “I’ve known Joshua Dansby for a long time, since he was a wiry young boy. Knew his grandfather very well, God rest his soul.”

He sighed and came out from the door of the station house to meet face to face with Cora.

“Joshua was always driven. Probably the sense of responsibility he took when his father passed, and he was left to tend to everything. But you know, as good lookin’ as he was, there was never a gal that could love him.”

Cora laughed amidst the emotions swelling.

“He’s really difficult.”

Mr. Stanfield let out a chuckle.

“He is. But I think it’s more than that. Part of it is, I think, he never knew how to love himself. He always had a higher expectation for himself that he never placed on anyone else...and it drove him to loneliness.”

He sighed and looked at his feet.

“I saw how he looked at you that first day, when he realized you were the one he was supposed to meet…”

“With disappointment?” Cora pursed her lips.

“With hope.”

“I just made things more complicated,” she looked away.

The train’s engine began to whir.

Mr. Stanfield tipped his hat.

“It’s time.”

Cora nodded, and gestured to the side of the platform.

“Make sure that Kan gets back to Joshua. And--and tell him--” She pursed her lips. “Tell him I said goodbye.”

Mr. Stanfield nodded and turned toward the train, shouting “All aboard the Lil’ Miss, leaving the station in five minutes!”

Cora let out a deep breath as she turned around, once again facing the great, steam locomotive. The black body glinted in the sun, though an Autumn chill rippled through. Sounds of people boarding and clicking their feet, pulling their luggage across the wooden boardwalk rang in her ears.

“Isn’t this where I began?” Cora said to herself.

“But it doesn’t have to end like this.”

Cora turned at the voice. “Joshua!”

He breathed heavily, and removed his hat, his dark hair tousled, some strands lifting in the breeze. His blue eyes were deep and hallowed, and Cora’s chest swelled with emotion.

She didn’t need this. Not at her getaway.

“You’ve lost everything,” she said. “Walter Howell’s exposed our secret, your family knows I’m a penniless orphan girl, and you have absolutely nothing left.”

Joshua brought his hand to Cora’s cheek, and she closed her eyes, her heart feeling as if it needed to burst, feeling the warmth of him near her.

“I still have one thing left…” he brought his forehead to rest on hers.

“Please, don’t…” Cora muttered through tears. “You’re making it more difficult than it has to be.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice with a difficult woman,” he laughed.

Joshua brought his hand to the chin of the brown-eyed woman in front of him, leaning her face to look at his. He nearly missed her. He was out of breathe. He was out of words. And yet, in this moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted her.

“You are impossible, stubborn, obnoxious, and in fact one of the most annoying women I have ever met,” Joshua laughed. “But,” he wiped his thumb across her cheek, swiping away a tear. “You’re imaginative, and resourceful, you’re smarter than you think you are, and braver than anyone I know. And my goodness,” he cupped her face with both of his strong hands. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

He brought her into an embrace, enveloping himself around her small frame, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, feeling her heartbeat against his.

“I don’t care about the land, or the inheritance. I don’t care what people think, Cora.” He squeezed her tight. “I want you. I want you and all of you--even the annoying, impossible parts. I love you, Cora Sutton. I love you.”

Cora’s heart swelled with emotion. She felt weak, as if she could just fall to the ground right then and there, but around her, Joshua Dansby held on. And he held on tight, his strong arms wrapped around her, as if she could forever be safe. And it wasn’t a fairytale. It was her life.

“I love you, too” she spoke into his broad chest. “But,” she pushed away and looked up at him, his blue eyes glistening. “I’m not Cora Sutton,” she said. “I’m Cora Dansby.”

He smiled, and leading her chin close to his, their lips met, and in a moment, both were suspended in time, as if nothing moved around them. When it ended, for a brief moment, his heart danced at the way the loose strands of her hair flitted in the breeze. He brushed his hand against her cheek once more, and smiled.

“Mrs. Cora Dansby,” he said. “Be my wife.”

And she was.

****

THE END

A Bride’s Heart – A Clean Western Romance

Chapter One

Margaret didn’t know how to feel as she watched the landscape pass quickly by. The train’s window had a small handprint on the inside near to her. She wanted to clean it off but had nothing to use. Her mother had pressed it upon her that she needed to be a clean and tidy young lady and that no husband would ever respect her as a woman if she was a slob. She hadn’t spent a day in her life looking unkempt. Her mother would never have allowed it.

Margaret pulled her feet up under the bench and locked them at the ankles. Her hands were folded neatly over her satchel, which she held in her lap. She was gripping the handle as if the bag wanted to jump off her lap and run away on invisible legs. When she realized she had such a tight grip, she relaxed her hands and splayed her fingers a few times to stretch them.

While doing so, she met eyes with a young man across the way from her. He nodded at her, tipping his hat. She nodded back and lowered her eyes. She didn’t know him and she was on her way to meet her new husband. It would look very bad for her to be seen speaking with a young man she didn’t even know.

She brought her eyes back up and looked through the window again. She would have sworn it was just raining out there. Now it looked like they were passing through a dry desert. Seconds later, the scene was completely blocked as they went through a tunnel that had been dug right through the middle of a mountain.

Margaret felt a bit of apprehension but shook it off. Her family was centered on people with strong back bones. Her father had begun teaching her at the age of seven to be one of the best horse breeders and trainers there was in all of England…or at least their little Meadowbrook Village area. When he had immigrated with his family to America, he had brought his business and his love for horses with him. These were traits he never had to try hard to instill in his only daughter.

Margaret had never wanted for anything and had always known if there was anyone she could count on in life, it would be her father. She was proud and had a high level of self-esteem. Her strong countenance and narrow stare had been known to shut the dirty mouth of the sailor and quiet the screaming child, one the same as the other. She also had a strong faith in God and often called upon Him to help her through the trials and tribulations of life.

This would have made it rather odd that she would be responding to an ad in the paper for a bride to come to the West and join a stranger in matrimony. And it was true that she had initially been against it. But the more her father talked about it, the more she had become convinced it was the right thing to do. She was advancing in age and she needed to make sure she had a family to carry on the family business. Her two brothers would not be able to take over when their father passed on. One had died in the war and the other was not interested in horses in the least. The only use Margaret had for him was that he was swiftly able to convince their father just to let a woman take over – or at least marry her off to someone who would do it.

Margaret would have preferred to take over the business on her own. But there was little to no women running any businesses anywhere in America, and if they were running the business, they had a man’s name (usually their husband’s) out in front for everyone to see.

Margaret would be 29 in a few months and her advancing age had been one of the valid points her father had mentioned in order to get her to do this. She needed a family more than she wanted one - but she did want one. She let him know that she had been thinking of a family of her own for some time.

Finally, she had given in and boarded the train after communicating with a man in Nevada named Mark Brooks, who was living in a tiny established property called Las Vegas. There were only a few hundred people there, maybe a bit more. Margaret’s village in England had room for about 1000 before it began to break into sections.

The ad had requested a woman of average height and weight with a strong back and a love for horses. She definitely met those qualifications. The groom, Mark, said he was looking for a bride who would share his interests.

If Mark’s interest was in horses, Margaret was definitely answering the ad.

Through their letters, Margaret had explained that her father had brought her from England when she was young. Mark had told her that he had once already had a family – a wife and two children, one of each – but that they had been killed in a raid by hostile Indians. It had been nearly ten years and he was tired of being alone. The women he knew, within his circle of friends, were few and far between and so far, none had shared his love for horses.

Margaret was also interested to read that he attended church regularly. Most people did, she noticed, but few mentioned it in passing, as part of an introduction to themselves. Mark had not only made mention of it but told her politely that she would be required as his wife to attend with him.

She thought it was a bit strange that he should say such things but shrugged it off, wanting to know more about him as a person before making any judgments. Of course she would go; she would be happy too, as a matter of fact. It was also a practice she and her father shared. They had rarely missed a day, even after her mother and brother passed away and her second brother stopped attending.

Her attention was drawn from her thoughts when the young man sitting in front of her pulled out a gold pocket watch with a fast moving train emblazoned and embossed on the front. He pressed the button and it flipped open, revealing the time. He looked up and saw that she was looking at the watch.

He turned it so that she could see the face was trimmed with gold and had tiny gold hands inside it. There were even a few small diamonds encrusted inside at the very middle where the hands met.

“This was my father’s,” He said, leaning forward to whisper loudly, as if what he was saying was top secret. Margaret instinctively leaned forward, as well, scanning the watch a little closer. “He gave it to me before I left New York. I’ve taken this watch almost all over the country now. All I have to do is reach the ocean on the West coast and I will have traveled every single mile with this watch telling me the time.”

Margaret lifted her eyebrows, not sure how to respond to that. It seemed like a senseless trip if it was only to bring a watch from one side of the country to the other.

He noticed the look on her face and smiled. Suddenly, he seemed more attractive to her and she smiled back.

“I see you are wondering why I would do something so foolish as to travel all over the country just for a watch.”

Margaret sat back without a word, still smiling.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell you why. I’m not just carrying this watch around the country. I’m making records of the time differences. You see, I developed this watch.”

She began to listen to him more closely, interested in his watch and the recordings he was doing of time changes. He told her his watch was special because it went by the shadow of the sun, similar to a sun dial. He seemed pleased that she knew what a sun dial was. She thought everyone knew what a sun dial was.

When he went to a different climate, he would record the hours his watch gave him until the sun dial said it was a different time. Then he would calculate the distance between where he had been and when the time change occurred.

“What do you hope to gain from all of this?” Margaret asked in a curious voice, her head tilted.

“I hope that someday we will be more accurately counting time and days when communicating with each other from across the country.”

“How in the world do you think that is going to happen? Are you also developing faster horses?” Margaret gave him a smile to let him know she was teasing him. He smiled back.

“No, but think about it…” He hesitated and she said,

“Margaret.”

“Yes, think about it, Margaret. It’s John, by the way. If you think about how fast this locomotive is going, that steam engine is taking us all the way across the country with the power of hundreds of horses.”

“So you don’t need horses to take letters across the country? It still takes a very long time to travel.”

John nodded. “I believe that someday we will develop and have the knowledge to create faster communications and travel.”

“I really can’t imagine, John. I must be a grounded thinker. I’ve never been much of a day dreamer.”

“Oh, it’s not a daydream, Margaret,” John responded in an excited tone. He scooted to the edge of the bench he was sitting on and pulled at his bow tie subconsciously. “I’ve been developing these time tables and records for a year, really more than a year. I’m not going to stop until I have a complete list of analysis. I want everyone to have one of my watches eventually. Then they will know what time it is all over the world!”

Margaret had to laugh, the thought of the entire world being able to communicate with each other in a short time was amusing. John smiled at her, not at all disappointed by her frivolity. He was used to people laughing at his plan for everyone to know what time it was no matter where they traveled or resided.

“I try not to think about the time,” Margaret said. “It never seems I have enough to do all the things I need to do in a day, much less the time to do what I want. And I never get to do what I want, as it is.”

“And what is it you want to do?” John asked.

“Sleep in every morning.”

They both laughed.

“Why are you traveling by yourself across the country?” John asked. Margaret braced herself for whatever reaction she was going to get.

“To marry a stranger.” She responded bluntly.

“Oh really?” John just nodded, looking at her. “I certainly do hope it turns out well for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“Not really, just that his name is Mark and he loves horses. My father taught me to rope, train and live with horses on a regular basis. Now I return the favor by marrying a man who also loves horses the way we do.”

“It’s certainly good to start out on a new adventure in life.”

“I agree.”

“And being with someone compatible should make it even better.” His tone had changed somewhat and she suspected he had been hoping for a closer relationship upon their arrival at their destination. She wasn’t offended and felt a bit flattered that he had sprung into conversation with an obviously single woman on a train. His face was still friendly, though he looked a bit disappointed.

“And do you have a wife?” She asked. If he was going to be forward, she would gladly return it.

“I do not.” He shook his head. “Too much traveling. Never found a woman willing to do it.”

“Well, I certainly hope you do someday, if that is what you wish. And what a grand opportunity you have to find a woman who loves to travel as you do. You are always on here, I gather, and that’s where she will be, too!”

John shrugged, smiling. “I guess we will see what happens in the future, won’t we?”

Chapter Two

The dry dusty plain spread out in front of Margaret to one side, and the bustling action of the station was on the other. She looked out over the plain. It was in such contrast to the people milling about, talking, laughing and crying their goodbyes. She held on to her satchel and thought about how John had continued to talk to her about his travels for the rest of the ride. He was obviously itching to tell someone about them.

It made her wonder why he looked surprised when she said that he should write it all down and make a book of his adventures. It was as if the idea had never occurred to him before.

She went with her satchel directly into the train station and approached the clerk behind the counter.

“Pardon me,” she said. “Where is the nearest post?’

“You can send a telegraph through me right here, young lady. You want to send a letter you gotta go the other side of the station and talk to Ester.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. “I will send a telegraph.”

She proceeded to send her father a message, letting him know that she had arrived safely and would be en route to Las Vegas shortly. She would keep him updated of her status.

The clerk took the telegraph and Margaret paid for it in coins.

She turned away just in time to see a man she suspected was Mark approaching her from the two double doors she had come through. He was not so tall, but he walked with confidence, taking long strides, his broad shoulders pushed back. Margaret noticed how his hazel eyes glistened and his smile was warm. He was handsome.

“Hello,” Mark said as he got closer, removing his hat. “You are Margaret, are you not?”

“I am. How did you guess?”

Mark took one of her long blond braids in his hand and touched the soft hair with his large, short fingers. Her bright blue eyes stared up at him from behind surprisingly dark lashes. He wondered how she managed that.

“Your description matches you nearly to perfection, Margaret. How uncanny.”

Margaret blushed a little and confessed, “It was my father who wrote that letter.”

Mark hesitated before throwing his head back to laugh loudly. “No wonder you sounded so full of yourself. That’s bound to happen when a father describes a daughter he loves.” He looked down at her. “You do have a close relationship with your father don’t you?”

“I do.” Margaret smiled up at him, pleased that he could tell without her saying it.

“It’s a good thing to have a relationship with your father like that. Respect is very important.”

“I agree.”

“Did your father approve of your decision to answer my ad?”

“Yes, he did. He was encouraging from the beginning.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mark was very happy to hear it. He knew that a woman who had respect for her father would have respect for her husband, too. When he’d placed the ad, he’d only done so because he had been through all the women in the city and he hadn’t found a decent one in the bunch. He decided to roll the dice on a stranger, at the behest of one of his buddies at the stables. It had been all somebody else’s idea and he’d lucked out. He’d won that bet. He smiled. “So if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take you on to the courthouse and get the papers signed.”

Margaret nodded. She didn’t know how it was supposed to go anyway. If he wanted it quick and immediate, she didn’t have an objection.

“I am fine with that.”

“Then after it’s done, you can come with me to the stables where I keep my horses. Some of them are for breeding. I also race.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “You ride a horse in a race?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I used to be a jockey, yeah, but it was a while ago. Now I just watch the races and train the jockeys and horses and breed. I’d like it if you would be there, meet everybody, maybe help out sometimes.”

Margaret jostled in the seat when the tires bumped over rocks and debris. She grabbed Mark’s arm instinctively and he smiled at her.

“You’ll have to get used to that. These roads can be pretty rough. You can’t really even call most of them roads. They’re just paths. The tires have made them in the ground where people keep going.”

“How long have you been here?” Margaret asked, looking at the dismal scene as it passed her by. There was not much of anything there. The people didn’t look very happy and the dust was constantly being kicked up by one horse or another.

“I was born and raised in the area but I’ve been here in this part of Nevada for four years. That’s when it got the postmaster, back in ’84. I arrived just days before they made it part of this state instead of Arizona.”

“That’s very interesting.” Margaret nodded, politely. She had no knowledge of either Arizona or Nevada and hadn’t been interested in reading the news when she and her father had a business to run. She scanned the landscape again, looking at the heavily male occupied area that seemed like a blight in the middle of plush green all around them. There was almost a line differentiating between where man dominated and land dominated. “I must say it seems quite amazing that you would race horses here. I didn’t know such a thing existed in these small places out here in the West.”

“Well, we have to do something to entertain ourselves, don’t we? Especially us men who don’t frequent the saloon until all hours of the morning. I don’t care for the taste of that beer they serve, and liquor gives me a blasting headache. So no worries in that department. Saves me a pretty penny, I’d say, not drinking like my buddies do.”

They pulled up in front of a small official looking building and she knew it was the local courthouse.

“They got what we need in here. Let’s go on in, sign the papers and be done with that, how does that sound? Oh, and if you want to wait a short time to get in to the marital bed, should I say, that sits fine with me, too. I’d like to get to know what kind of woman you are, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s a good idea, Mark. I appreciate that.” She did feel a sense of relief. She had been a bit worried about it.

Margaret followed Mark into the building and went through the motions of getting married. The clerks in the courthouse were not congratulatory, nor were they interested in the event whatsoever. They signed as witnesses to the union and the two of them were walking out of the courthouse less than an hour later.

“So you are Mrs. Mark Brooks now,” He said as he gave her his hand to help her up onto the wagon. “How’s it feel?”

She gave him a small smile. “Not much different than when I wasn’t Mrs. Mark Brooks.”

“It’ll hit ya later.”

Margaret let out a small laugh. It felt good so she did it again. Mark gave her a nice smile in response.

“So we are going to your stables now?”

He nodded. “Yeah there’s some people there I want you to meet. I work with them all the time and they need to… they want to see you.”

She thought it was a strange way to put things until she rolled his words over in her mind a few times. If he was the owner of the stables then all the people were probably his employees. That made her their boss, too, she supposed. It made her smile. She wasn’t about to take over her husband’s business.

Thinking of him as her husband made her feel even more strange inside. In fact, her heart began to thump fairly hard and she felt a cold chill. She was married. It was almost too unbelievable. A year ago, she would have never believed her path would lead in this direction. Her future as the bride of a stranger.

She wouldn’t allow nervousness to take her over. She shook it off and straightened her spine. It made the hard bench feel even harder. He glanced down at her, noticing her discomfort.

“Sorry about having to pick you up in the wagon.” He said. “Friend of mine has my carriage.”

You couldn’t get it for the day? She thought but kept silent. She nodded at him and turned to look out in front of them. They were on a main path that looked well-traveled but quickly turned off onto a small path that looked to be no more than wheel paths in tall grass. She could almost reach down and touch the top of the grass and weeds as they went by. She didn’t and pulled back from it a little, wondering what types of creatures and insects might lurk in there.

Mark didn’t say anything when he felt her press gently against him, drawing away from the foliage. She was wise to, he thought. There were often prickers and flying insects that left nasty welts on their bodies if they weren’t careful. He got through the area as quickly as he could.

Margaret was flooded with relief when the wagon moved out from the tall grass and into a vast clearing. She was staring at a cleared road, dug out from the ground so that the path was obvious and the dirt they rode through was soft but not too soft. On either side, grass had been mowed down to the smallest blade and she wondered how they had ever managed to do that. It looked as though someone had taken a pair of scissors and precisely cut each blade to perfection.

She drew in a deep breath, looking further. In front of her stood a tall building that stretched out at least 90 feet in length. It was two stories. As they got closer, she could see it was one of the most beautiful stables she had ever seen.

If she was this amazed by the building, how awed would she be by the horses? She turned wide blue eyes up to Mark. “I am stunned by this building, Mark. How majestic!”

He smiled, running his eyes over the tall brown building. He kept it in excellent shape, giving everything he had to make it look like the best there was.

“I love my horses. Thank you for the compliment. We’ll stop here and go around the building so you can see what’s on the other side.”

“I think I see part of it.” She could see the rings running around in a half circle and then going back in the same direction. “You have a racetrack here.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s very interesting.” She nodded, appreciatively. She knew nothing about horse racing, only how to breed, train and care for them. When she looked at him, she noticed something strange. It looked like he wanted to weep. His face had turned a bit red and he took a moment to place his hand firmly in front of his mouth and gaze at her. “Are you all right?” She asked.

When he responded, she could tell he only had it there to keep in a laugh. “I’m just glad you aren’t shocked by any of this. You seem like a real decent woman. How is it you haven’t been married before?”

Margaret shook her head. “I never found the right one. The men were just…”

She made a disgusted face, and he let out his laughter. “Well, their loss, I’d say, is my gain. Come and meet the men.”

Chapter Three

Margaret’s introduction to the men had gone swiftly. She made friends with most of them right away. They seemed impressed with her knowledge about horses and the entire industry. She learned about racing just as fast but kept herself mostly to the care of the animals, instead of what they did on the track.

Before she knew it, three months had passed. She had written as many letters and received two back from her father. Their business in Virginia continued to thrive, leaving her with feelings of homesickness. She wanted to see her father but knew that it wasn’t possible.

She had made friends with the wife of one of the men at the stables. In fact, they had become close almost the minute they met. She called her “Ellie”, which was short for Eleanor, a name her friend couldn’t stand to be called.

She saw Ellie standing in front of the market stand, looking through apples and approached from behind. “Ellie! Good morning!”

Her friend turned and looked at her with a large smile on her face. “Margie, how good to see you this morning! I didn’t know you were coming to the market today!”

“I have to see Doctor Joe.” Margaret hooked her elbow around Ellie’s and walked with her. “I haven’t been feeling well and Mark wants to make sure I am not ill.”

Ellie’s face turned to a look of concern and she stopped walking. She scanned Margaret’s face. “You don’t look ill to me.” She said. “You look fit as can be!”

Margaret nodded. “I feel fine most of the time. But I feel terrible in the mornings, almost every day for a month now. And I feel heavier. My dresses are a little tighter. I’m no child but I’m pretty sure I’m going to have one.” She smiled at Ellie, whose face immediately lit up.

“You are! Oh, I just know it! That’s wonderful news, Ellie! Can I go with you to find out?”

“Of course!”

It was a few hours before they stepped back out into the light from the doctor’s office. He had confirmed Margaret’s suspicions and had even given her a round-about date when she should expect the child to arrive.

“Oh, Margie, there are so many things to ponder now, so many decisions to make! I can’t believe it…no, of course I can believe it, you and Mark…Oh, Margie, I’m so excited for you!”

“You better help me out, Ellie.” Margaret directed her friend in a serious tone. “You’ve had a baby so you know what’s coming!”

Ellie nodded. “Yes, I will help you, of course, my dear. You will need all kinds of things for your baby, like a crib and you’ll have to clean out one of those rooms in the back where Mark’s been keeping all of his junk.”

“It’s amazing how much junk he has.” Margaret said. “I don’t know where he collects all those things.”

“Probably from his track. Sometimes people don’t have the money to pay him. I’m kind of surprised that he even has anything left from the money he’s lost.”

Margaret stopped walking and looked at her friend. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Ellie’s eyes opened wide. “Margie! Mark has been gambling on every race ever run at that track since it opened up. Didn’t you know that?”

Margaret felt a chill run through her. He had been gambling? Questions jumped to her mind and she felt the words tumbling from her mouth. “What money is he using to gamble? He’s been doing it for all this time and I didn’t know?”

“He hasn’t mentioned it at all?” Ellie sounded shocked. “I thought you two were so close. You looked like you fell in love with him right away. He looked the same. Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

Ellie frowned and then her face turned to one of anger. “So you don’t know that he has that stables mortgaged all the way, and that the bank is not wanting to give him any more money to cover it? He’s been running two or three races a week, haven’t you noticed? That’s way more than usual.”

Margaret felt ashamed. She hadn’t been paying attention to the racetrack side of the business at all. She had fully engrossed herself in the care of the horses, from their health to their grooming. She never thought about the money. It had been her father’s job in Virginia to run the finances.

Ellie noticed her friend’s change of mood and put her arm around her shoulders. “Margie, I don’t want to be the one to scare you this way. But you will have to do something about what’s going on if you plan to have a family with Mark.”

“How recently did he lose a lot of money?”

“Well, like I said, he keeps running races and betting on the horses so he can get the money to pay the bank loan. And some of the races he’s winning but some he’s losing. I know he’s good at finances but he’s not the best at picking horses.”

“Oh no, this is so terrible.” A wave of sadness swept over her and she felt tears come to her eyes.

Ellie shook her head and took Margaret’s small face in her hands. She looked directly at her and spoke in a firm tone. “Margie! This is no time to start acting like a little girl. I thought you knew about all of this and I actually admired how you were handling it. Now you have to show me how you really handle something like this. And you have your baby to think about, too. You have to pull yourself up and be the strong woman I’ve come to know over the past couple months!”

Margaret still felt like crying. She did want to be strong, but the thought that the business would fail and she and Mark would be left penniless, without horses or a home, made her despair. She started to walk again, her mind racing. Ellie kept up with her and just down the block, steered Margaret into a small church with a beautiful white steeple that ended with a cross way up in the air.

“We need to pray,” Ellie said.

The church was so quiet and there were candles on either side of the podium on the stage, which was only a step up from the rest of the church. There was a bench at the front of the aisle, with a red velvet cloth draped over it and a beautifully carved wooden cross standing before it.

Margaret was glad there were no crucifixes. She was not a fan of seeing her Lord and Savior in such a position. She preferred to think of him as he was after he was resurrected. She went with her friend to the podium and both of them knelt down at the same time.

Ellie began to whisper a quiet prayer. Margaret kept quiet, listening to her friend’s prayer and realizing she didn’t have to say anything, Ellie was saying all that needed to be said.

“Father God, we ask direction in this matter.” Ellie was earnest in her prayer, her voice, though whispering, was filled with emotion. “This matter has surprised my friend and she needs to come to an understanding of the situation.”

Ellie continued to pray, pointing out the many biblical trials men had gone through in the past. She thanked Him for his blessings and asked that He turn toward Margaret in a way He had never done before. She asked for continued blessings for her own family.

After about ten minutes of solid praying from Ellie, they both said “Amen” and stood up. They were quiet as they left the church, but once the door closed behind them, Ellie said, “Do you feel any better?”

Margaret nodded as they stepped out into the street to cross. “I do. But I still don’t have a clue what to do. How will I convince him to stop what he’s doing? He’s been doing that for way longer than I’ve been around. And now I’ve got another burden to put on his shoulders. What will he think of that?”

“What will he…” Ellie shook her head. “Dear, he is just as responsible for that little one as you! He better not act like a coward or a fool about it or I will have something to say to him!”

“Even if I convince him that he has to stop his gambling ways, the bank won’t listen to me, either.”

A thought ran through her head and she suddenly perked up. Ellie didn’t notice and continued to talk. “I must say, Margie, you will have to tell me his response. If you come running to my house at all hours of the night crying because he’s said something mean, I will have Jack after him before he can say boo. I will tell you that, my girl.”

Margaret giggled. Her friend was so soft on the outside and rough on the inside. And she loved her for it. She was very glad they were friends.

“Do you want me to come to the house with you or are you going to the stables?” Ellie asked. “I have to go back to the stables because Jack asked me to bring him some of the milk from home.”

Margaret frowned. “He asked you to bring milk? What for? The horses don’t drink milk.”

Ellie gave her an exasperated look. “The milk isn’t for the horses, Margie! It’s for Jack!”

They both laughed heartily.

“I’ll go with you to the stables. I want to see if Mark is there. I think we should talk.”

“Do you want me to come with you? You know, you might want to wait on talking to him about it until you figure out a plan.”

Margaret hesitated. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see when I get there. I’ll see what kind of mood he’s in. I don’t want to deal with a lot of hassle or anything. And I don’t want to get emotional in front of the men.”

“They might think you are in hysterics. When will you tell him about the baby?”

“Well, I guess I should tell him at the same time, shouldn’t I? I mean, it is the reason I found out and the reason it must be stopped.”

Ellie shook her head. “Your baby is very important. But he needs to stop because he’s going to lose everything he owns if he doesn’t.”

Margaret sighed. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea that everything she had been working so hard to accomplish and earn throughout the months she had been here could suddenly be taken away and she could be left with nothing. Her first thought was to run back to her father. But she couldn’t do that now, not with a child on the way and love in her heart for the man she married.

She couldn’t believe he had been lying to her the whole time. He just hadn’t seemed like the type.

Her father was the only hope she had. She prayed she could help her husband change his ways and she prayed that her father would be able to help them with the bank. Those were her only options.

Chapter Four

The kitchen door swung shut behind Margaret, and she stood in the breezeway, watching the front door. She knew Mark would come through any moment and she was mentally preparing herself for what she wanted to say.

She had spent the last day or so with Jack, at Ellie’s request, and he had filled her in on the track and the debts that Mark had built up. It was true that he had a problem. It wasn’t just the betting, it was the fact that he wasn’t very good at it and wouldn’t let anyone pick horses for him. He always insisted that he would get the right one and he rarely did. When his horse won a race, he was elated, using the win to justify the losses. And it was never enough, certainly not enough to pay the bills they had looming over their heads.

The house was in jeopardy, the horses were in jeopardy, and the stables were in jeopardy. They really could lose it all. She thought about her growing baby and what they would need to do to prepare for it. It was a scary thing. She was older than most of the women who were giving birth. By the time those women were her age, they were on their second or even third child. Doctor Joe had warned her that it could pose a problem but not to worry too much about it.

Jack had given her copies of the papers Mark had signed when he bet everything he had and started in on the property. He gave her the financial documents that she needed to understand how much was owed and when it was due by.

Her heart thumped as she waited for Mark to come in. She’d heard the wagon pull up some time ago and knew that he had to be about done settling in the horses for the night. So she stood there and waited, her mind racing with anxious thoughts just as quickly as her heart beat in her chest.

The door squeaked when Mark pushed it open. He took a few steps inside, saw her standing there and stopped to stare at her.

“What is that look?” He asked, his voice tense. She assumed he could tell that she knew what was going on. Only a guilty man could have a face like that. And she had grown to know his expressions fairly well over the last few months. He was open with his feelings.

Or at least she had thought so.

Could she trust him now?

“Mark, we have to talk about what’s going on. You need to know something.”

“What do you mean ‘what’s going on’? You tell me what’s going on.”

She lifted one hand to show him some of the papers she had gripped in her fingers. “We owe everything to the bank, Mark. We’re going to lose everything you’ve built up here!”

Mark nodded. “I’m glad you said everything I’ve built up here. This is my house and that’s my stables, you need to remember that.”

“Mark, it’s not going to be yours or mine or anyone’s but the bank’s in a short time, maybe just a few weeks! You didn’t tell me you were going through this when you brought me here!”

“Well, I wasn’t about to tell someone I didn’t even know about issues I might be having with my finances.”

Margaret struggled to hold in her emotions. She had been thrilled all the way up until this morning, loving her new life with the horses and a husband. She thought was happy and content. “Oh Mark!” She turned away and quickly prayed for strength and guidance. She turned back to look at him. “Mark, you were quick enough to bring me here and marry me and take me to your bed. You have been to church with me every Sunday. You have prayed with me! How can you not tell me that you are struggling with gambling?”

“I’m not struggling with it!” Mark reached down and yanked off one of his boots. He angrily pulled the other one off and moved to go past her into the kitchen. “It looks like you’re the one who’s struggling with it. If you don’t like it, well, I guess you can just go back to Virginia!”

For a moment, Margaret was devastated. She had fallen in love with Mark and didn’t want to lose the family she had longed for because of this problem.

“No, Mark!” She followed him into the kitchen. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was ashamed and that he didn’t mean what he said. “I don’t believe you want me to leave. I believe that you have fallen in love with me the way I have with you.”

Margaret could tell by the look he gave her that she was right. He could only glance at her and then look away, his cheeks flushing a deep red under the dark beard he had grown. His eyes looked sad.

Mark dropped himself into a chair at the table after filling a mug with hot coffee she had ready for him. She pulled one of the nearby chairs closer to him and sat in it, leaning in toward him so that she could speak softly.

“You must know something, Mark. I have news for you that might change your mind about your problem.”

“You do?” His voice was so small.

“Yes.” She took one of his hands and placed it over her stomach. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His eyes opened wide and he blinked a few times. “We are?”

“Yes.”

He stood up, pushing the chair back with his legs, looking down at her. “We are?” He repeated. His face was a mixture of emotions. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or dismayed by the news. “I…I…”

Mark couldn’t think of the right words to say. Or simply didn’t have them.

Margaret got up and went to stand in front of him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She felt relief to feel him hugging her back. He lowered his head and gave her a kiss on her soft blond hair.

“I’m glad we’re having a baby, Margie.” He said softly. “I haven’t known what to do about the debts for a while now. I was afraid to come to you and tell you. It all happened so soon after you arrived.”

Margaret looked up at him. “I know that you’ve been gambling for a long time but yes, it seems the worst of it happened right after I got here. You have to stop now, Mark. Do you see that?”

Mark separated from her and went to the kitchen window to stare out over the land. “I can’t now. I owe so much the only way to take care of the situation is to keep it going. I’ve been trying so hard to get the money but every time I think I’m on a streak, I start losing.”

“That’s what gambling is!” Margaret moved to stand next to him again, wanting to be close to him. She wanted to show him that she wasn’t judging him, that she loved him and that she wanted to work things out the right way. “You know that when you do something too much and it puts your money and family in jeopardy, it’s a bad thing. You can beat your problem if you just pray about it and work really hard to resist.”

Mark was quiet for a moment, continuing to look out the window. “I still can’t.” He said to her disappointment. “We can’t get out of debt without the money that comes from it.”

“We aren’t getting out of debt that way, Mark, it hasn’t happened yet, what makes you think it will?”

“Things will change. I’ll start getting a lot of winners and…”

Margaret violently shook her head, putting one hand gently on his arm. “No, Mark! You have to stop. I believe I can get my father to help us get out of debt with the bank. Then, we can…”

“I’m not taking money from your father!” Mark said vehemently and walked back to the table to pick up his cup of coffee. He held it for a moment, looking at it and then shook his head, setting it back down. “No, I just can’t do that!”

“Mark, you have to think about our baby! You have to think about me! Don’t you love me?”

Mark looked at her with passionate eyes. He was obvious with his love and had let everyone he worked with know about it. He had made her feel like queen of the castle since her arrival. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t believe he had been hiding this from her.

Then again, when she thought about it, she understood, as well. He had fallen in love with her and then been too ashamed to admit his problem.

“Yes, I love you, Margie.”

She went to him again and he pulled her into a hug this time. “I have faith that we can get through this, Mark. I have been praying and I just know that God is going to come through for us. But you have to pray, too. You have to really believe that he will help you stop what you are doing.”

“How can I be a man and ask your father to bail me out of my debts? I am the one who sent for you! I promised him, even though I never told him, that I would take care of his daughter. I know how much you love and respect him. How can you love and respect me after I do something like this to your father?”

“You haven’t done anything to my father. If you refuse to let him help us, then you will really be doing something to him. You’ll be putting the safety of his only daughter in jeopardy. He would be very angry at you for that.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly would! And our baby! His grandchild. He would be very, very angry.”

“But we need a substantial sum.”

“It won’t matter. The only thing that will matter is that when we have paid what we owe and begin paying my father his money back, you don’t gamble it away. Do you think you can break your habit?”

She rubbed his arm and looked up into his eyes. He was blinking and refusing to look at her.

“Mark, please. Please tell me you love me enough…and love our baby enough to do this for us.”

“I want to, Margie. I do love you and our baby.”

“We will keep praying about it. My papa will help us through this and then we will start again. From the beginning if we have to. But at least we will have our horses and our home.”

“And our baby.”

“Yes.” She smiled wide and he matched it.

“It’s so wonderful to think that we will have a little boy or girl here next year. I hope it looks like you.”

She giggled. “If it’s a boy, I don’t think he will like that.”

He shook his head. “I hope that he or she is healthy. I hope that you are okay through it all and that everything works out good in the end.”

“Ellie is going to help me. She will know what’s going on before I do.”

They both laughed at that.

“I’m glad she is wanting to help you.” Mark’s demeanor had lightened significantly from only moments before. She could see that he felt relief and renewed strength. She wondered if he would really be able to kick the habit. He was so good with money otherwise.

“Do you want me to start helping manage the finances of the track and stables, Mark?” She asked a little nervously. It had always been his job. She didn’t want him to feel that she was stepping on his toes.

He paused and looked at her thoughtfully. “I think it would be wise, yes.” He agreed. He put one of his hands on her tummy and the other on the small of her back. “You won’t be up for all that physical work taking care of yourself for the next year anyway.”

“Silly man, it doesn’t take that long to have a baby!”

“I know.” He laughed. “But you won’t be going back to grooming and cleaning out stables for a long time, honey. You’re going to have my baby to take care of!”

The thought of a happy family in her future lifted Margaret’s spirits back up into the clouds. She threw her arms around her husband and hugged him close. “I love you, Mark!”

“And I love you, my sweet little Margaret!” He replied, kissing her soft lips with a passion she would never be able to resist.

****

THE END

A Bride’s Destiny – A Clean Western Romance

Olive stared out the window, watching as the scenery went by. There was a chill in the car, and she wondered where it was coming from. There didn’t appear to be any cracks in the strong plate of glass she was gazing through. The door to the cabin was closed. She glanced quickly at the other passengers in the car but none of them looked chilly. They were relaxed, reading books or newspapers. One older lady was knitting quietly, her needles clicking together softly every now and then.

Olive rubbed her arms softly and lifted her hand to shield a yawn. It would be only a few hours until she was in Nevada. There was a small town there that would be Olive’s new home. At 23, she was ready for a change. Her large family left behind; she looked forward to a more solitary lifestyle, with just a husband until she would perhaps have a child. No more hustle and bustle. No more noise, talking, clamoring, complaining.

She wouldn’t miss it.

As the train traveled further toward the West, she began to feel much warmer. She didn’t need her gloves and stripped them off. Soon, her shawl and bonnet also came off. She was wearing several layers under her outer dress, and she was beginning to regret it.

She was anxious to get there. When it was announced they would arrive at her Nevada station in 20 minutes, she pulled the envelope and letter from her pocket and read through it. The man who had sent her a ticket to come across the country and be his bride sounded like a professional but someone who also had compassion. He was a carpenter – a very successful one from the sound of it. He sounded charming from the letter. She was nervous and excited about the prospect of leaving her big family to be somewhere completely new and different.

Olive was hoping this man that she was meeting, Henry, did not want to have a lot of children. She’d been afraid to broach the subject because she was afraid he wouldn’t allow her to come if she revealed that she wasn’t interested in a brood of babies running around. She’d watched her own mother give birth too many times and wasn’t interested in the prospect at all.

There were only a few minutes left before the train would reach the station. She was warm now, very warm.

It was late spring of her 23rd year, pushing into summertime and she already missed the colors and vibrancy of Virginia. This place she was going to looked dry and dusty. It looked bleak and miserable. She had a feeling the people would look just as bleak and miserable once she actually stepped off the train.

She discovered she was right as soon as she placed a foot on the long wooden planks that made up the platform between the train and the building. She was ashamed that her hair and face were wet with sweat and patted herself with a handkerchief again and again. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference. The moment she pulled the cloth away, she felt the drips rise again.

Olive wondered if it was possible that the inside of the building was cooler. She hoped so. She picked up her carrying bag and her sewing box and went to the door. A man standing next to it, leaning against the wall, stepped in front of her and pushed open the door, allowing her to go through. She lowered her head, looking up with only her eyes and nodding. “Thank you, sir,” she said in a low voice.

“You’re welcome, miss.”

As soon as she went in the building, she could see that she was the only woman in the place. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Men were milling all around, talking, walking through, carrying boxes and other items.

She looked all around the room. Thankfully, the huge stone fireplace deep inside one of the walls was not lit and looked like it hadn’t been for quite a while. She moved to a bench and sat down, smoothing her skirts out in front of her and wishing she could take them off and wear pants like the men all around her. Even if she could just be wearing one skirt, it would be cooler than the layers she had on. She sighed heavily.

None of the men in the place looked like they were going to take notice of her. She didn’t know what Henry looked like, but she assumed since she was the only woman here, he should be able to find her easily.

She looked around again and wondered if Henry would look for her outside, see that she wasn’t out there waiting for him and leave. There could be little chance of that unless he were a complete simpleton to think she would stand out there in that heat watching for someone she wouldn’t recognize.

She sighed again and glanced at each of the men in her line of sight to see if any of them showed any interest in the only woman sitting in the room. They were watching her. They were looking at her. But they weren’t showing the kind of interest she was looking for. They looked curious. There was no real intention behind their glances. They were just as much in the dark who she was as she was them.

The hour ticked by, then another. Olive had taken to shaking her head and wondering what was going on. The sun was going down rapidly. Soon it would be pitch dark. She wasn’t sure the place would be open much longer.

She stood up and went to the clerk’s window. He was looking down at a list of names and destinations, running his finger down one at a time. He looked up when she cleared her throat.

His face was immediately surprised, and he raised his eyebrows. “May I help you, miss?”

“It looks like my ride forgot about me,” Olive said, her voice coming out smooth and soft. “I don’t know what to do.”

He tilted his head to the side and glanced behind her at the men milling about the room. “None of these men catch your fancy?”

Her face flushed, and she felt hot. “Sir, I was supposed to be picked up by a gentleman and taken into town. I am not here for any other purposes. As you can see, I have two bags with me, and I am not exactly dressed for this weather, am I? The man who sent for me paid ahead of time for the ticket. Perhaps he is in the book of yours, and you can find him for me.”

The surprise on the clerk’s face was renewed. “Pardon me, miss. What is your name? I will look it up.”

“My name is Olive Kelsey. His name is Henry. Henry Lewis.”

This time, the look that crossed the clerk’s face was one of recognition. “Oh, I will send a messenger to go find him. Please go ahead and sit back down. I will let you know when we find him.”

“Thank you.” Olive turned away and walked slowly back to the bench. She had been sitting there for over two hours. She didn’t want to sit down again. She wanted to leave. She would rather have walked to town than sit on that bench for another moment. Instead of sitting, she went to the biggest window she could find and stood in front of it, staring out. As it got darker, she could see people lighting lanterns, and a man was walking down the street, lighting the gas lanterns that dotted the street with a long, lit torch.

Directly in front of the window, across the street, she could see a very small general store, a place where people could get eggs, sugar, and salt. To the right of the store, there was a grain mill and on the other side, a saddle shop. There were several different shops lining the street, but she couldn’t make out the names or the purpose of the shops in the dim light.

The town stretched on from there, but she could only see the street in front of her, to the left and to the right. The road was made of dirt and there were horses with riders passing by almost constantly, kicking up the dust. She saw only a few women. From the look of them, she understood why the clerk may have mistaken her for one of them. There didn’t seem to be any women of quality, at least not on this street. Soon the sun was completely down. She continued to watch the flickering lanterns until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Miss?”

She turned and had to look up. The man was at least a foot taller than her, with a broad chest and kind brown eyes. “Yes?”

“You were brought here by Henry Lewis?” he asked.

She nodded without answering.

He gave her a complete look, from her eyes to her shoes and back up. She avoided doing the same. She didn’t want him to think she was rude. “I…I am his brother, Eric. I’m sorry there was confusion and that you had to sit here waiting for so long. It seems…Henry didn’t tell us you were coming. May I see the letter he sent you?”

Olive kept herself from sighing. She still had the letter in the pocket of her dress, and she pulled it out, handing it to him. She felt like she was having to prove she wasn’t lying. It offended her that she wasn’t just picked up and taken to her destination, as promised.

Her face must have betrayed her thoughts because the look on his changed and he leaned forward a little. “The clerk has already verified that Henry really did send for you. I would just like to see the letter he sent you because, as I said, we were all surprised to hear that he did this.”

He opened the letter and read it quickly. She couldn’t tell what he thought by the look on his face. Then he refolded it and handed it back to her without a word about it.

“I will take you to the family house so we can decide what to do.”

It was Olive’s turn to look surprised. She tilted her head and bunched her skirt up in one hand. “What to do? I don’t understand. I was supposed to be picked up and taken back to the home where I would be married and stay with Henry. What is going on?”

Eric looked down, pressing his cheek out with his tongue and then licking his lips, nervously. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

Olive frowned and tilted her head to the side. “An accident? What kind of accident? What do you mean? Is Henry all right?”

He hesitated before answering, glancing over her shoulder and out the window. She wondered what he was thinking and what had happened.

“I’m afraid not,” Eric answered, finally, dropping his eyes back to her face. “He’s been killed.”

Chapter Two

Olive didn’t know how to feel. She followed Eric to the wagon in silence. She hadn’t known Henry other than from the letters. He’d sounded like a decent man, a good man. But Eric didn’t seem too broken up about the loss of his brother. He was, in fact, quite complacent, helping her into the wagon and snapping the horses into action with a whistle and a flick of the reins.

“I’m sorry you’ve been shocked by this, Olive,” Eric said once they were on the road. “I am afraid he didn’t tell anyone that you were coming.”

“Why would he do that? Why didn’t he tell you? You’re his brother.”

Eric nodded. She looked at him with narrow eyes, scanning his face closely. He had a strong profile, and she thought he was very good-looking. She wondered what Henry had looked like and if they had shared any traits.

“Yes, but we aren’t a close family. We don’t have a lot of time we spend together. We all do our own thing.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Henry is the oldest brother. Then there’s me. We have a younger brother and three younger sisters.”

Olive’s heart sank. “You have a big family.”

Eric shrugged. “Not too big. It’s about regular size, I’d say.”

Olive thought about her family back in Virginia. There were too many people in that house. No matter how big the house got, there still seemed to be too many people in it. She wondered if that’s what it would be like where she was going, too. It made her want to jump out of the wagon and throw herself in front of the horses.

She realized Eric was looking at her and lowered her head, blushing.

“Don’t look so horrified, Olive,” Eric said, gently. “We are good people. You don’t have to worry about not being accepted.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. My family in Virginia was large, as well. I was praying to get away from that.”

Looking at her, Eric was surprised that she mentioned praying. She didn’t look like the type that would consult God to help her. She looked like she relied on herself more than anything else. “What is your family in Virginia like? Do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”

She nodded. “I have four brothers older than me and three sisters younger. Not to mention my aunt and uncle moved in last year and brought their four children with them. They are all hellions. Little ones, 6, 8, 10 and 12.”

Eric raised his eyebrows and whistled. “That’s a lot of people in the house.”

“Yes,” Olive said simply, her voice cold. “It was.”

“Our family isn’t that big.” Eric consoled her. “And we don’t have any little children around anymore. We’re all grown.”

“Your sisters don’t have children?”

“Not yet.”

“So they are married?”

“My sister Helen is. My other sister Jane isn’t, and we don’t expect that any time soon. My youngest sister is only sixteen and not ready for those thoughts.”

“They don’t live in the family home anymore?”

“Helen and Matthew have a home. My brother William and his wife Cynthia also have a home. But neither have children.”

Olive thought for a moment, her heart calming down a bit. That eliminated a lot of her grievance. “Where are you taking me?”

“I will take you back to the family home, where me and my brothers and sisters grew up. You can stay in one of the rooms until we…” He stopped. He’d been about to say “figure out what to do with you” but that sounded rude and harsh. His heart was soft for Olive. He felt sorry for her because she was in a strange place with people she didn’t know very far away from her home. But he also felt a little relief for her. Henry had not been the best character in the world. It didn’t come as much of a surprise to find he had ordered a bride from the East. It was more of a surprise that anyone had responded.

The letter he’d written to Olive didn’t sound like him at all. Eric had been taken aback by the letter but hadn’t mentioned it to her. Best to let her think his brother had been a good man than to reveal the truth, even if she realized how closely she had dodged a bullet. Plus, she was a beautiful woman and in his heart, he knew Henry would never have treated her well, even with her beauty. He was impressed by her long black hair and smooth pale skin. Her lips were small but full and stood out in her features. She had light green eyes, another aspect that had surprised him. Dark hair and light green eyes were a rare combination that Eric wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. He liked it.

“I know you must be nervous and upset about this but please don’t be. We will make things all right for you. We won’t ship you back to your…huge family.” He smiled at her, and she felt a wash of warmth flow through her when she looked at him. He was being so nice to her. How could she stay in a sour mood?

“I appreciate you not sending me back.” She jostled into him when the wagon went over a hole in the road. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” She looked up at him fearfully, righting herself in the seat and pressing her hands together in her lap as if that would keep her steady.

He laughed. “You nearly knocked me off the wagon, woman!” He said in a teasing tone.

She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

“It’s okay, Olive.” He continued to smile at her.

She pulled in a silent breath and held it for a moment, letting it out slowly. She was trying very hard not to be nervous. She was truly surrounded by strangers now. Henry was her only contact, and he was apparently dead.

“So what happened to Henry?” She asked and then was terrified she had overstepped by asking the question.

“He was thrown from his horse this afternoon and landed in the creek behind the house. Hit his head on a rock. He was gone before anyone got to him.”

“I hope he didn’t suffer much.”

Eric shook his head. “Not likely. From the size of that rock and the way he was…laying there, I don’t think he was conscious at all. Probably went like that.” He snapped his fingers. He looked at her again with worried eyes, his smile gone. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was. “How long did you correspond with him?” He asked the question to distract from the current topic. He didn’t want to see his brother in his mind lying in the creek bed any more than he wanted to talk about it.

“We exchanged letters for several months. I wrote four to him, the first being the initial response to his ad.”

“So he put an ad in a newspaper in the East? Where exactly are you from again?”

“I was living in a little town in Virginia.”

“Virginia is a long way from here. You must not be used to the scenery or the weather here at all.”

“No.”

“You will find that things are very different here, where that’s concerned. Most of the women who are here dress…” He eyed her. “Very differently. I see you have a lot of…clothes on. You must be hot.”

“I am surprised you could not already see that.” Once the words were out, she regretted them. It seemed she was just putting her foot in her mouth every time it opened. She would have to learn to keep quiet and not burst out with her comments willy-nilly. It was inappropriate for her to speak to him that way and she knew it. All he had to do was turn around and take her back to the train station and send her back.

When she looked up at him, however, she didn’t think he would do that. He didn’t seem at all bothered by her constant verbal flubs. Back home, she’d had to blurt out what was on her mind if she expected ever to be heard from. If one person wasn’t talking, someone else usually was. She’d never been the girl to stand in the back of the room, pressed up against the wall with her mouth shut. She tried to be polite and respectful the way her parents had trained her to be. But typically she failed at that and just spoke whenever she thought someone might be listening.

Eric was watching her face change as she thought to herself. She was quite the mystery. One moment, she looked serene and at peace. The next, her brow was furrowed, and she looked like she might become sick. He wished he could read her mind, just for a moment.

Instead, he prayed quickly for guidance. She’s a nervous sort, it seems, Lord, he thought, and I don’t want to frighten her. Let me speak the right words to comfort her and relieve her of her nervousness.

“Do you want me to tell you about my family?” He asked, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Olive responded.

“Well…” He began. “I was born in a stable because my ma and pa didn’t…”

He stopped when Olive started giggling and looked down at her with wide eyes. “What did I say?”

“You don’t have to go that far back.” She couldn’t help giggling while she said it and she wondered if he even understood her.

“Oh.” He started to laugh with her. “I thought you wanted the complete story.”

They both laughed.

“But seriously…” Eric finally continued when she was reduced to giggling again. “My brothers and sisters and I never had a lot when growing up, just the house we lived in. We have had to work for a long time, real hard, on the farm and in the shops to keep food on the table. My ma stayed home and taught us all to read and write. My pa worked in the grain mill for as long as I can remember. He still works there. He’s a strong, healthy man and I hope to be that way when I’m his age. In the last ten years, though, he started adding on to the family house. You would think we were wealthy.” He looked down at her. “But we’re not really.”

“Wealth means very little if you aren’t leading a good healthy life,” she responded without thinking first. “That’s good to hear, your pa is a strong man. My papa is an engineer. He works for North Eastern Trains. He develops new techniques for making trains safer for passengers and to transport goods across America.”

“That sounds like a very prestigious job. He must make a lot of money doing that.”

“He does.” Olive said bluntly. “But the rest of my family doesn’t do anything. So he’s supporting everyone.”

“Your uncle doesn’t work?”

“No. He was injured in the war and can’t walk. My aunt pushes him around in a rolling chair, and he complains almost constantly. It’s not fun to listen to him nor to be around him any more than necessary.”

Eric saw her good mood vanishing. He began to regale her with a tale of a time when he, his brothers and sisters had all gone swimming in the creek behind their house in one of the deepest holes and how a frog had jumped up on his sister’s back, scaring her so badly she screamed and almost drowned.

The way he told the story made it much funnier than it would have been. Helen had been surrounded by her siblings so there wouldn’t have been a way for her to drown.

“Unless we all turned our backs,” he concluded and looked down at her. “And we never would have done that. We may not be that close now, but when we were young, we were much closer.”

“How many years are between you?”

“Somewhat like stepping stones,” Eric responded. “There’s about a year and a half between each of us, except Amy. She was our surprise miracle.”

“Your mother must have been very happy about that.” Olive snorted. Once again, she felt her cheeks flush when the words came out.

Eric chuckled. “I’m not too sure she enjoyed those years, to tell you the honest truth. I’m sure she would have lost her mind if my pa hadn’t been there to help and Aunt Helen, too. One of my sisters is Helen, named after her. It was Henry, then me, then Helen, then Jane and then my younger brother, William and our little sister, Amy. She’s sixteen, so that’s the youngest we go. Henry has his own land and…he had his own house and property. I guess that will be sold to pay…his debts.”

Olive frowned. “Was he in debt?”

Eric shrugged. “He had some debts, yes. He was a businessman. He had debts.”

Olive didn’t say anything more about that. It was pointless to dwell on information about a man she would never meet. Since she had not married him, she was not entitled to inherit anything from him. “And where do you reside?”

“I keep a loft in town over one of the shops. Usually…” He hesitated, whistled at the horses and pulled the reins so that they would miss another large hole in the road. “Usually, I just stay at the family home. I like to be there for ma when I need to be.”

“She isn’t sick, is she?”

He shook his head. “No. Just small and frail.” He gave her another teasing grin. “Like you.”

Olive smiled at him. She may have looked small and frail on the outside, but she felt like a large wolf inside. She would repress that instinct with everything she had, for fear of losing her new home.

Chapter Three

When Eric finally announced they were close to the house and pointed it out to her, she was relieved. It was placed at the back of long path that looked like it had seen many, many wagon wheels. There was some greenery around, long strips of grass along the side of the path and trees of varying shapes and sizes giving them much needed shade. She was glad to see the color because she had been afraid it would be nothing but dirt as far as the eye could see. She had, in fact, pictured something similar to the Sahara Desert, which she had never seen a picture of but was fully aware existed.

Virginia was covered in green, the mountains, the plains, the trees, bushes and shrubs. There was much vegetation in Virginia. There was very little here.

She noticed the cacti growing all around her and wondered at the different types there were. Some had round flat sections with tiny needles sticking out of them and others had arms reaching up to the sky with very long, scary-looking needles in them.

“Try to stay away from the cacti,” Eric said, noticing her staring. She turned her wide green eyes to him, and he felt his heart squeeze. He gave a nervous laugh and looked back toward the house. “Those needles are not our friends.”

She looked back at the cacti and nodded, murmuring, “I’ll surely stay away from them.”

They pulled up in front of the house, and Eric called to his mother, who was standing on the porch, waiting for them. She was holding a lantern high up in the air, which for her was about five and a half feet. Eric quickly exited the wagon and came around to the other side to help Olive down. The light from his mother’s lantern lit up the stairs and the porch so they could see.

“Thank you, ma. I appreciate you waiting out here.”

“It’s a nice night out, dear.” His mother turned her cheek toward him to receive her kiss. He greeted her by taking her hand, leaning to kiss her cheek and smiling at her.

“This is Olive Kelsey.” Eric took a step back to allow his mother to see Olive fully. “She’s the woman Henry sent for.”

“Yes.”

Olive took in the older woman with much curiosity. She didn’t look like she could be the mother of such fully grown men. Though her hair was streaked with white, the blond that it had been almost hiding that fact. Her face was nearly wrinkle-free, and her eyes sparkled in the light of the lantern as if she had just thought of a delightful prank she wanted to play on someone.

Eric took the lantern from her so that she could approach Olive.

Olive’s heart stopped for a moment, thinking she might not meet Mrs. Lewis’ approval, and she would be sent away.

Mrs. Lewis reached out to her, taking one of her hands gently. “You must be frightened beyond imagination, my girl. Why don’t you come inside and have some ham biscuits and hot tea? I would bet you haven’t eaten for many, many hours.”

“You would win that bet, Mrs. Lewis,” Olive said, the mention of food suddenly bringing sharp hunger pains to her stomach. “I would love to have a bite to eat.”

Mrs. Lewis nodded. “And I’ll bet you are exhausted, too. Ready for a good sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Lewis patted her hand softly and nodded again. “I have made up a bed for you in one of the back rooms. You will be safe and warm there. But first, we must get something in that very small stomach of yours.”

“I’d be ever so grateful for that, Mrs. Lewis.”

The older woman shook her head. “You mustn’t call me Mrs. Lewis since you will be made part of the family. You may call me Hannah. That is my given name.”

Olive felt a bit of confusion drape over her. “I…I was coming for…Henry. He’s…gone, isn’t he?”

She wished she hadn’t brought it up, but she hadn’t understood the woman’s statement and needed clarification that she wasn’t losing her mind. She took a chance and glanced at Eric, who was just standing, staring at them with a peaceful look on his face.

She wondered what he was thinking.

Hannah’s face dropped a bit. “Yes, my oldest son was killed in an accident today. We are having a feast tonight to honor him and will bury him tomorrow. You must join us for some food and wine and then off to bed you go.”

“If I drink wine, I won’t make it to the room you have prepared for me.”

Hannah laughed softly for a moment and then turned to go into another room down the hall. Olive looked back at Eric before following. He lifted one hand to indicate she should go.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Olive was surprised to hear those words. Why would Eric care what happened to her? He hadn’t been the one to send for her. She walked slowly so that he was right behind her and whispered back to him, “Why did she say I would be a part of the family when Henry is not here now?”

When Eric responded, he leaned close behind her, she could feel his soft breath on her ear. It sent violent chills down her arms and thighs, and she almost felt like fainting. She held it together, though, drawing in a deep breath as quietly as she could and straightening her spine.

“I think she’s already decided your fate, my dear. Welcome to the family.”

Olive’s eyes widened at him, and she hurried to catch up with Hannah. He straightened up again, clasped his hands behind his back and continued to walk at a normal pace, watching Olive get further away from him before turning into the room the Wake was being held. He was in no hurry. The room wouldn’t be packed with people attending a get-together in his brother’s honor. He wasn’t a well-liked man.

When he turned into the room, there were even fewer people than he expected. Then he remembered the late hour and assumed if more were here, they had already left. There was no body to look at and that suited everyone just fine. The sour look that had dominated Henry’s face would not have been something for Olive to have in her mind of the man she almost married.

Eric went immediately to a high backed cushioned chair in the corner by a large indoor plant his mother was so fond of growing. She took care of her plants as she had taken care of her children, with gentle love and firm discipline. The plants were trimmed and watered on a regular schedule that never wavered or faltered. She was a woman who liked to keep things in order, looking presentable and, in the case of her children, physically and mentally healthy. He sat there, watching Hannah take Olive around the room.

Hannah introduced her to Eric’s other brother and his sisters and brothers-in-law one by one. The older woman made no immediate mention of her being Henry’s intended bride, simply introduced her as a new friend in town. The siblings weren’t fooled, however, and began to question Eric about Olive’s sudden appearance as soon as Hannah took the girl to the kitchen to retrieve some real food and drink.

“What’s going on, Eric? Where did you find her? Where have you been hiding her?” Helen was the first one to quiz him, coming over to stand directly in front of him. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest as if she was upset but her voice and face said she was more curious than anything.

“You’re going overload the poor man, Hellie. Just let him answer one before you ask another.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, William Lewis. And don’t call me Hellie. You know I hate that. I am just wondering where she came from, that’s all.”

Eric nodded, lifted his hands and gestured for them to calm down.

“She looks really nice, Eric.” His youngest sister smiled at him, approaching slowly to sit on the floor next to him. She ran her fingers through the carpeting, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “Did you meet her in town?”

Eric touched her nose before answering. “I did, yes. But not the way you are all thinking. It seems our eldest brother was up to something before his accident today.”

His statement was met with widespread frowns of confusion. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much he and his siblings looked alike. They all looked like they were frowning with the same mouth. The thought amused him, and he smiled wide.

“I know that smile, Eric!” Helen said, sternly. “You are playing with us. What are you hiding?”

Eric shook his head. “No, no, Helen. You are mistaken. It isn’t me who was hiding. It was Henry.”

“I don’t understand.” Jane spoke up for the first time from her seat on the couch. She had been wrapped in her thoughts of Henry and just realized that she had been introduced to a strange woman in her mother’s home. “What’s going on?”

Her siblings glanced at her before turning their eyes back to Eric. She was just being her typical self. There was no need to inform her what the conversation was about because she would be back into her own world within moments anyway and they would have to explain it all again later.

“Eric, you need to come forth with the truth. What are you saying?”

“Our brother sent for a bride from the East.”

He was met with silent stares from his brother and sisters. He had even succeeded in making his youngest sister’s face register shock and bewilderment.

“Pardon me?” William took a step closer to him, and Eric lifted his hand in a stop motion.

“I’m telling you, that’s where Olive is from. She is from a small town in Virginia. Henry sent for her.”

“What could possibly make any woman want to do that?” Helen sounded belligerent. “I can’t imagine! Leaving your family and your home and traveling all the way…”

“That’s just the thing.” Eric interrupted her. It was uncommon for him to do such a thing so Helen’s mouth snapped shut and she stared at him with wide eyes. “She is escaping an unhappy home life, and I think you should give her a chance. She is not some wild woman who was looking for a man with money, and she has not shown herself to be loose or impudent in any way. I would appreciate it if you would give her the chance to show you who she is.”

“You don’t even know who she is, Eric,” William said. “Yet you defend her as if you are the one who called for her.”

Eric shook his head. “No, my brother. I didn’t call for her. It was Henry.”

“How do you know?”

“She showed me the letter he had sent most recently. She has others. They are in his handwriting. I would recognize it anywhere.”

“I… I don’t believe it.” Helen finally looked away and took a step back from him, her aggressiveness dissolved. She moved to the couch and let herself drop on it next to Jane.

Jane looked at her.

“What’s happening, Helen? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you later, Jane.” Helen patted her sister’s hand softly. “Don’t you worry about it.”

Chapter Four

The house was extremely long. It was obvious that Mr. Lewis, who built it in the first place, continued to add rooms as he saw fit. He never expanded the upper level, leaving the house looking very odd from the outside. The rooms he built on were comfortable, solid and very nicely decorated. He’d felt the need to add another room when his daughters married, in case they and their husbands wanted to visit at the same time. Then he had added two more rooms for the children he knew they would eventually have.

He was an extremely boisterous and fun man in his late 60’s. He was fit and trim, ready to take on the world. Olive enjoyed being around him whenever he was there.

Over the course of a week, she learned many things about the new life she was living and the people she was living it with. She learned that Helen and Matthew were daily visitors, that William and his wife were rarely seen and that Henry had not been a visitor more often than holidays. She couldn’t understand that, considering the kind of family he’d had. Eric was also there more often than not.

She took the time to wonder if his visits were more frequent now that she was here. She tried hard not to think about Eric all day. He was the brother of the man she was supposed to marry. She hadn’t corresponded with him, and he hadn’t paid for her ticket to come. He was under no obligation to her. She was someone else’s intended. She could only imagine what he thought of her decision to marry a stranger across the country.

But when he visited, her doubts and fears seemed to disappear. He was so friendly and kind; she had no time to think negative thoughts. He took her on a tour of the house and surrounding land a few days after her arrival and had been thoughtful enough to bring along a basket with fresh fruit, cornbread and small jars of a delicious strawberry drink Hannah had been making for her children since they were very young.

“This is a concoction my mother is famous for.” Eric had boasted.

She remembered laughing and saying, “Famous where? I’ve never heard of her strawberry drink before.” and not even caring that it sounded blunt and a little rude. Eric never took it that way. Her conversations with him were always smooth, flowing naturally from one topic to another, with a lot of laughing along the way.

They had spent that entire day together. The only possibly negative thing she noticed of the day was that he always steered the conversation away from Henry if the topic was broached. Olive had seen very little grieving of the brother that had so recently passed, not just by Eric but by his siblings, as well. Helen did not seem to be naturally friendly, but the rest of Eric’s siblings were.

Still she had not seen one shed tear from any of them. Their mother was the only one she had ever seen show emotion about her deceased son.

Nevertheless, the rest of the day proved to be a true blessing from God. It was one of the most wonderful days she had ever had in her entire lifetime. She couldn’t imagine a day in her future that could make her feel as comfortable and happy as that day.

Since then, she’d found it nearly impossible to keep him off her mind. She wanted to be with him wherever he was, no matter what time of day or night it was. She wanted to feel his hands and his lips against hers.

It was during these times of elation that her mind would begin to fill with doubts. It was wrong for her to feel that way about him. He was Henry’s brother. She still felt some kind of obligation to the deceased man, and she didn’t know why. She wondered what his family must think of her. They hadn’t once asked where she’d come from, but she suspected they talked about it when she wasn’t around.

It was with those thoughts that she woke that morning, exactly one week since her arrival. She looked around the small room, stretching her arms out wide and breathing in the fresh scent of coffee brewing.

She sat up and let her small legs hang over the side. Her feet touched the cold floor for just a moment before she slid them into the little soft slippers Amy had given her. Wrapping her robe around her, she stopped in front of the mirror and poured some water from the pitcher into a pretty ceramic bowl. As always, she hesitated before dipping her hands into the water and washing her face. It had become a habit when she was in Virginia to hesitate because oftentimes the water was very cold.

It was rarely cold here in Nevada. The weather was completely different. But she still hesitated.

Five minutes later, face clean, hair brushed and pulled back behind her to fall loose and curly down her back, Olive walked out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen and dining room. There was a very long carved wooden table with matching chairs that took up an entire room size. The kitchen was open to the table, doubling the size of the room. Henry had made the table for his family several years past.

She heard voices and stopped, standing silently, listening to what they were saying.

“I still don’t see the point in all of this.” It was Helen she heard first, and the tone of her voice is what had made Olive stop.

“What do you mean by ‘point’?” It was Eric that responded. Olive’s heart skipped a beat, and she berated herself for eavesdropping but didn’t continue to the kitchen. “Why does there have to be a point in helping someone?”

“She’s a complete stranger. Maybe the letters were forged, and she found a way to move into a home when she did not have one?”

“I don’t understand why you think that way.” It wasn’t Eric that was talking this time. Olive was surprised to hear William’s voice. “She has given no indication that she is anything other than she said she is. A woman who promised to marry a man that is deceased. She had nowhere to go.”

“I read those letters. They don’t sound anything like Henry. Nothing like him!” Helen snapped back at her brother. “I think she found a way to…to forge them!”

“That’s nonsense.” Eric spoke up. “She is who she says she is. However…” The way he said the word made Olive think Helen had been about to speak again. “I agree that the letters do not sound like Henry wrote them. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him use some of the words I read in those letters. That is, indeed, a mystery. But that is not a reflection on Olive. She would be a victim if this were some type of prank someone was playing on Henry.”

Olive distracted herself with thoughts about the letters and the man she thought she was coming to meet. The way they made it sound, Henry was not the kind of man she would have wanted to be married to. He sounded harsh, negative and mean. That would have been a living nightmare.

“You are right, Eric.” Helen’s voice had changed. Olive heard the shuffling of feet and the sound of someone sitting. Helen sighed. “I don’t want to see ma and pa taken advantage of, though. She shouldn’t just stay here forever. She isn’t kin. We don’t know her. She could be anyone…”

“I think I know why she was sent here, Helen.” Eric said, and Olive’s ears perked up, drinking in the sound of his voice. She sighed quietly.

“Oh? And why is that? For you to marry?”

The room was silent.

Olive’s breath caught in her throat, and she lifted one hand to it as if that would help. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Marrying Eric would be the most wonderful thing she could ever imagine.

But was it the wrong thing? What if that was never in God’s plan to begin with? She hadn’t been praying as much as she should have but she was worried that such a thing might not look good to Him or to the people she was living with. What would they think of her?

She was confused by the long pause and wondered if Eric would ever answer. She pressed her lips together and let out a breath when she finally heard his voice.

“I am not the one to say what is in God’s plan, Helen.” His words almost directly matched her thoughts. It only made her more nervous. Her hands were shaking, and she pressed them against her lips firmly. “But I can tell you that I’ve prayed every single morning for Him to send me a sign that I will have a happy life, and, until she came, there was no answer.”

Tears filled Olive’s eyes. She felt guilty for eavesdropping, even if it meant she had heard such words. She began a fierce internal battle with herself, wanting to burst through the door and go to him and also wanting to run back to her room and fall into a crying mess on the floor.

She reached out with one shaking hand and pushed the door open to reveal herself. As it swung open, she blinked away her tears and let her eyes fall on Eric.

When he saw her flushed face, he jumped up from his chair, knocking it back.

“Olive!” He said her name almost fearfully as if he had said something wrong. “I was…I don’t…”

She took a few steps toward him. It was as if there was no one else in the room when she approached him. She shook her head and held one hand out to him.

He pulled in a deep breath, his chest swelling magnificently. Her face flushed a deeper pink. When she was only a few inches from him, she stopped and looked up into his soft brown eyes. “You were praying for me?”

“I was praying for you before and after you arrived, Olive,” he responded, his voice sweet music in her ears. “And I will until the day I die, I swear.”

“Is it truly the right thing to do? Is it?” Olive wanted the answer to be yes more than anything in the world.

“Yes.”

She melted into his arms, and he held her against him as tight as he could. “Will you marry me, Olive? Will you be my bride?”

She didn’t separate herself from his grasp when she answered. She lifted her head and whispered it in his ear. “Yes, Eric. I will marry you. I love you with all my heart.”

Eric closed his eyes, praying thanks to God. “And I love you, sweet Olive Kelsey. I love you.”

****

THE END

A Bride’s Home – A Clean Western Romance